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 :T)1CK.8<. FITZGERALD-- 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
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A COLLECTION 
 
 HUMOROUS, DRAMATIC, 
 
 DIALECT SELECTIONS, 
 
 EDITED AND ARRANGED 
 
 FOR PUBLIC READING OR RECITATION, 
 
 BY ALFRED P. BIJRBANK, 
 
 And containing many Choice Selections never before in print, as 
 well as some old favorites. 
 
 i 
 
 NEW TORE ; 
 DICK & FITZGERALD, PUBLISHERS 
 
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 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by 
 
 DICK & FITZGERALD, 
 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at "Washington, D. C-. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 I take pleasure in presenting this little volume to the 
 public, as it enables me effectually to answer very many 
 inquiries after choice selections made popular by me and 
 others of the profession, and hitherto most difficult to 
 obtain. 
 
 I am especially indebted to Mr. Dion Boucicault, for his 
 great kindness in allowing me so liberal an extract from 
 the Shaugraun; also to many other kind friends who have, 
 from time to time, suggested or given me some of the 
 rarest bits of dialect in the book. 
 
 In preparing this collection, I have taken especial pains 
 to include only those things which I know by actual trial 
 to be strong and successful. Every public reader will 
 appreciate the force of so emphatic a statement as the 
 above, one which I believe can be truthfully made of no 
 other "collection" now extant; and with the experience 
 of nearly one thousand public entertainments in all parts 
 of the country to guide me, I have done my best to fulfill 
 the conditions of preparing an intensely practical and 
 desirable collection. 
 
 It will be apparent to all discriminating minds, that this 
 book is by no means intended as a •' Beading Book " in 
 the ordinary sense of that term. It is not intended, nor is 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 it fitted, for a school or class text-book ; and were it my 
 intention to make this preface, in any sense, an essay on 
 Elocution, I could adduce many reasons why such a hook 
 should not he so used. It is intended to afford hoth pro- 
 fessional and amateur readers a fund of selections espe- 
 cially adapted to the purpose of entertaining an audience. 
 I only regret that the limit of price, and consequent 
 space, in this small book, prevents the introduction of 
 scarcely more than half of my own repertoire, to say noth- 
 ing of many charming and desirable specialties of other 
 readers, which I might use had I room. Trusting, how- 
 ever, that this book will answer all desirable ends, until it 
 shall seem best to make a more comprehensive collection, 
 I remain, 
 
 The Public's faithful servant, 
 
 A. P. BTJRBANK. 
 
 September, 1878. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Conn's Description op the Fox Hunt 7 
 
 The Tailor's Thimble 8 
 
 The O'Kelley Cabin 10 
 
 The "Oolaghaun" 12 
 
 Kip Van Winkle. 
 
 15 
 
 The Death of the Old Squire 20 
 
 Schneider's Description of "Leah" 23 
 
 Love on the Half-Shell 26 
 
 Father Phil's Collection 28 
 
 A Literary Nightmare 37 
 
 The Birth of Ireland 43 
 
 The Irishman's Panorama 44 
 
 Money Musk 46 
 
 The Shd? of Faith 48 
 
 Pop -pup-poetry 50 
 
 A Senator Entangled 51 
 
 Christmas-Night in the Quarters 57 
 
 A Love Song 62 
 
 Tins Steamboat Hace 63 
 
 The Swell 67 
 
 The Little Stow-away 70 
 
 Surly Tim's Troublb 75 
 
 The Water Mill 82 
 
 The Fall of the Pemberton Mill 83 
 
 Death of Little Jo 93 
 
 The Soldier's Reprieve 97 
 
 Brother Anderson 101 
 
 A Basket of Flowers 104 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 rAGK. 
 
 M ah'sk John 109 
 
 Daddy Fuck's Spree no 
 
 The Ballad of Babie Bell 114 
 
 aux ita liens 117 
 
 Breituann in Maryland 120 
 
 " The Morning Argds " Obituary Department 123 
 
 Snyder's Nose 1 30 
 
 Magdalena, or the Spanish Duel 132 
 
 "Bay Billy" 140 
 
 Return of the Hillside Legion 143 
 
 C uddle Doon 145 
 
 Sheridan's Ride 146 
 
 The Power of Prayer 148 
 
BUBBANK'S 
 
 Recitations and Readings. 
 
 CONN'S DESCRIPTION OF THE FOX HUNT. 
 
 (From " The Shauguaun V —Act I, Scene 3.) 
 
 The following extract from the great play of the " Shaugraun " is 
 used with the special permission of Mr. Dion Boucicault. It is 
 taken from the scene where Mrs. O'Kelley, the mother of Conn the 
 Shaugrann (Irish for vagabond), is conversing with Conn's sweet- 
 heart, pretty little Moya Doolan. As these two women are talking, 
 enter Conn. 
 
 Mrs. O'Kelley. The polis was in my cabin to-day. They say 
 you stole Squire Foley's horse. 
 
 Conn. Well, now, here 's a purty thing, for a horse to run away 
 wid a man's character like this. Oh, wurra ! may I niver die in 
 sin, but here was the way of it. I was standin' by ould Foley's 
 gate, whin I heard the cry of the hounds comin' across the tail end 
 of the bog, and there they wor, my dear, spread out like the tail of 
 a paycock, and the finest dog fox you ever seen was sailin' ahead 
 of em, up the boreen, an' right across the church-yard. It was 
 enough to rise the inhabitants. "Well, as I looked, who should 
 come up an' put her head over the gate beside me, but the squire's 
 brown mare, small blame to her. Divil a thing said I to her, nor 
 she to me, for the hounds had lost their scent among the grave- 
 stones, we knew by their whine and yelp — when, whoop ! the fox 
 wint by us. I leapt on the gate, an' gave a shriek of a view-halloo 
 to the whip. In a minute the pack' caught the scent again, and the 
 
8 THE TAILOR'S THIMBLE. 
 
 whole field came roarin' past. The mare lost her head and tore 
 at the gate. Stop, says I, ye divil ! and I slipped a taste of a 
 rope that I had in my pocket over her head an' into her mouth. 
 Now, mind the cunnin' of the baste. She was quiet in a minute. 
 Come home aisy, now, says I, an' I threw my leg across her. 
 Bejabers, no sooner was I on her bare back, than, whoo ! holy 
 rocket ! she was over the gate an' tearin' like mad after the hounds. 
 Torick, says I, come back, you thief of the world ! Tally-ho ! 
 says I, where are you talon' me to ? as she went through the 
 hunting field, and laid me beside the master of the hounds, 
 Squire Foley himself. He turned the color of his leather breeches. 
 Mother o' Moses ! ses he, is that Conn, the Shaugraun, on my 
 brown mare ? Bad luck to me, ses I, it's no one else. You stole 
 my horse, ses the Squire. It's a lie, ses I — 'twas your horse 
 stole me. 
 
 Mota. An' what did he say to that ? 
 
 Conn. I couldn't stop to hear, for just then we took a stone wall 
 an' a double ditch at the same time, an' he stopped behind to keep 
 an engagement he had in the ditch. 
 
 Mrs. O'Kelley. Ye'll get a month in jail for that. 
 
 Conn. A month in jail, will I ? Well, begorra, it was worth it. 
 
 THE TAILOR'S THIMBLE. 
 
 (From " The Shaugraun "— Act II, Scene 4.) 
 
 On account of Conn's fondness for the "juice of sod " and gen- 
 eral dissolute habits. Father Doolan, the parish priest, and uncle of 
 Conn's sweetheart, Moya, who is her uncle's housekeeper, has quite 
 forbidden Conn the house ; but the young people got together oc- 
 casionally for all that, and Conn was hanging around outside one 
 stormy night, as was his custom, when Father Doolan's heart re- 
 lents and he says : 
 
 Father Doolan. "Well, you may let him stand in out of the 
 wet. Give me a cup of tay, Moya. I hope it will be stronger than 
 the last. Well, Conn, haven't ye a word to say for yourself? 
 
 Conn. Divil a one, yer Riverence. 
 
THE TAILOR'S THIMBLE. 9 
 
 Father Doolan. You are goin' to ruin. 
 
 Conn. I am, bad luck to uie. 
 
 Father Doolan. And you want to take a dacint girl wid ye ? 
 
 Conn. I'm a vagabone intirely. 
 
 Father Doolan. "What sort of a life do ye lead? What is 
 your occupation ? Stealin' the salmon out the river at night ? 
 
 Conn. No, sir, I'm not so bad as that, but I'll confess to a 
 couple of trout — sure the salmon is out o' sayson. 
 
 Father Doolan. The tay smells of whiskey. 
 
 Conn. If ye plaze, sir, it's not the tay ye smell, sir— it's me. 
 
 Father Doolan. That reminds me. Didn't ye give me a 
 promise last Easter, a blessed promise made on yer two knees, 
 that ye'd lave off drink ? 
 
 Conn. I did, barriu' only one thimbleM a day, just to take the 
 cruelty out of the water. 
 
 Father Doolan. One thimbleful? That I allowed you that 
 concession — no more. 
 
 Conn. God bless, ye did, an' I kep' my word. 
 
 Father Doolan. Kept your word! how dare ye say that? 
 Didn't I find ye ten days after stretched out as drunk as a fiddler 
 at Tim O'Malley's wake? 
 
 Conn. Ye did, bad luck to me. 
 
 Father Doolan. An' ye took only one thimbleful ? 
 
 Conn. Divil a drop more. Now see this. Ah, will ye listen to 
 me, sir ? I'll tell ye how it was. "When they axed me to the wake, 
 I wint. Oh, I wouldn't decaive ye, sir — I wint. There was the 
 Mulcaheys an' the Maloneys an' the O'Flahertys an' the Madi- 
 gans— 
 
 Father Doolan. I don't want to hear about that at all — come 
 to the drink. 
 
 Conn. Av coorse. Begorra, I came to that soon enough. "Well, 
 sir, whin, after blessin' the keeners an' the rest of them, I couldn't 
 despise a drink out of respect to the corpse, long life to it. But, 
 boys, sez I, I'm on a pinance, sez I. Is there ever a thimble in 
 the house, sez I — for divil a drop more than the full of it will pass 
 my lips this blessed day. "Well, as the divil's luck would have it, 
 there was only one thimble in the house and that was a tailor's 
 thimble, an' they couldn't get it full— begorra, they got me full first. 
 
 Father Doolan, Ah, Conn, I'm afeared liquor is not the 
 
10 THE O'KELLEY CABIN. 
 
 worst of your (loin's. "We've lost sight of you lately for more than 
 six months. In what jail bave you spent your time ? 
 
 Conn. I was on my travels. 
 
 Father Doolan. Where? 
 
 Conn. Round the world. Ye see, sir, after Master Robert was 
 tuk an' they sint him away, the heart seemed to go out of me 
 intirely. I'd stand by the say an' look over it, and see the ships 
 sailin' away to were he may be, till the longing grew too big for 
 my body, an' one night I jumped into the coast guard-boat, stuck 
 up the sail, and away I wint. 
 
 Father Doolan. Bless the boy ! ye didn't think ye could get 
 to Australia in a skiff? 
 
 Conn. I didn't think at all. I wint all night. I tossed about all 
 next day an' that night, till at day-light I come across a big ship. 
 Stop, sez I, an' put me ashore, for the love of Heaven, sez I; I'm 
 out of me coorse. They whipped me on deck. Where d'ye come 
 from ? sez the captain. Suilabeg, sez I ; I'll be obliged to you if 
 you'll lave me anywhere handy by there. You'll have to go to 
 Melbourne first, sez he. Is that anywhere in the County Sligo, 
 sez I, lookin' like a lamb. If ye heard the shout of laffin' I got 
 for that. Why, ye omadahaun, sez he, ye'll never see yer home 
 for six months. Then I set up a " withersthrue." Poor divil, sez 
 the captain, I'm sorry for you, but ye must cross the say. What 
 work can ye do best ? I can play the fiddle, sez I. Take him 
 forward and take good care of him, an' so they did. That's how I 
 got my passage to Australia. 
 
 THE O'KELLEY CABIN. 
 
 (From " The Shattgraun "—Act III, Scene 1.) 
 
 Conn's master, the young Irish nobleman, Robert Ffolliot, has 
 been exiled to Australia for his Fenianism. Managing to escape 
 by Conn's assistance, he returns to Ireland, but is quickly appre- 
 hended and placed in prison. Conn is equal to the situation and 
 helps him break jail. Just as they are getting nicely away, how- 
 ever, the villain of the play, Cony Kinchella, the cruel squireen, 
 sets upon them with the soldiery and constabulary. Conn outwits 
 
THE O'KELLEY CABIN. 11 
 
 them by taking on his master's disguise, so that while the noble- 
 man really escapes, Conn is followed to the ruins of St. Bridget's 
 Abbey, where two shots are fired at him, and he rolls down to the 
 foot of the ruins, apparently dead. It seems that Conn and Ffol- 
 liot had made an appointment with their respective sweethearts, 
 Moya Doolan and Miss Arte O'Neal, to meet them at this spot, and 
 run away with them, provided they get off safely. These two young 
 women are, however, abducted by the villains, and Conn is taken 
 home and laid out on a door, ready for a rale ould Irish wake. 
 Father Doolan is pacing up and down outside the cottage, waiting 
 the arrival of the mourners, and bewailing the untimely fate of 
 poor Conn, and the abduction of Moya and Miss O'Neal, concerning 
 whom he says : 
 
 Father Doolan. These two girls were the only witnesses of the 
 deed. And that was why they were carried off. No one else was 
 present to prove how Conn was killed. 
 
 Conn, {putting head out of window.) Tis — I was there. 
 
 All. Conn alive! 
 
 Conn. Whist ! No, Fm dead. 
 
 Father Doolan. "Why, you provoking vagabond, is this the 
 way you play upon our feelings ? Are you hurt ? 
 
 Conn. I've a crack over the lug, an' a scratch across the small of 
 me back. Sure, miss, unless I drawed them two shots, you would 
 never have had the signal. 
 
 Father Doolan. Brave fellow ! How did you escape ? 
 
 Conn. I'll tell you, sir ; but, whoo ! gorra ! they say dead men 
 tell no tales, but here am I, takin' away the character of the cor- 
 poration. When the master got out of the jail, there was Kin- 
 chella and his gang outside, waitin' to murther us. We give them 
 the slip, an' while the master got off, I led them away after me to 
 St. Bridget's Abbey. There, after I got them two shots out of 
 them, I rowled down an' lay as quiet as a sack oi pittaties. Miss 
 O'Neal an' Moya were standin' by an' screechin' blue murther. 
 " Stop their mouths !" said a voice that I knew was Kinchella's. 
 Eeilly and Sullivan whipped them on to a car that was waitin' out- 
 side. After that, sorra a thing I renumber, till I found myself 
 laid out on a door, wid candles all around me, an' whiskey bottles 
 an' cakes an' sugar an' tobacca an' lemons an' bacon an' snuff, an' 
 the divil an' all. I thought I was in heaven. 
 
12 THE " OOLAGHAUN." 
 
 Father Doolan. And that is his idea of heaven ! And you let 
 your poor old mother believe you dead, you didn't relieve her 
 sorrow ? 
 
 Conn. Would ye have me spoil a wake after invitin' all the neigh- 
 bors ? Thin I remimber the polis would be wantin' me for the 
 share I had in helpin' the masther to break jail. Oh, sir, don't let 
 on to the mother ; she'd never howld her whist. Besides, sir, I 
 want to be dead, if ye plaze, to folly up the blackguards that have 
 howld of Moya an' Miss O'JSTeal. 
 
 Mol. Do you know the place where these ruffians resort ? 
 
 Conn. I'm consaited I do. 
 
 Father Doolan. I'll answer for him he knows every disrepu- 
 table den in the county. 
 
 Conn. An' where would ye be now if I didn't ? 
 
 Father Doolan. Here comes your mother with the mourners. 
 
 Conn. Whoo ! she'll find some of the whiskey gone. 
 
 THE " OOLAGHAUN." 
 
 (From " The Shaugraun "—Act III, Scene 2.) 
 
 Male Yoices. 
 
 Och, Oolaghaun ! Och, Oolaghaun ! 
 
 Make his bed both wide and deep. 
 Och, Oolaghaun! Och, Oolaghaun! 
 
 He is only gone to sleep. 
 
 Female Yoices. 
 
 Why did ye die— oh, why did ye die, 
 And leave us alone to cry ? 
 Male and Female Yoices. 
 
 Why did ye die, why did ye die, 
 
 Leaving us to sigh — och, hone ! 
 Why did ye die, why did ye die, 
 Oolaghaun— och, Oolaghaun ! 
 Biddy Madigan. Oh, hoo ! Oh, hoo ! Oolaghaun ! The widdy 
 had a son, an only son— wail for the widdy. 
 All. Oolaghaun ! 
 
THE " OOLAGHATJK." 13 
 
 Biddy. I seen her when she was a fair young girl, a fair girl 
 wid a child at her breast. 
 
 All. Oolaghaun! 
 
 Biddy. None was like him, none could compare. (Aside.) Give 
 me a drop of something to put the spirit in me — the fire is get- 
 ting low. 
 
 Conn, (aside.) It's a mighty pleasant thing to die like this once 
 in awhile, and hear all the good things said about you after yer 
 dead and gone. 
 
 Biddy. He was the pride of the O'Kelleys forevermore. 
 
 Conn. I was a big blackguard whin I was alive. 
 
 Biddy. Good and beautiful. 
 
 Conn. Oh, go out o' that ! 
 
 Enter Molineaux. 
 
 Mol. I beg pardon for intruding upon this melancholy enter- 
 tainment — this festive solemnity. 
 
 Mrs. O'K. Heaven bless yer honor for comin' to see the last of 
 him. Isn't he beautiful ? 
 
 Mol. The rogue is winking at me. 
 
 Mrs. O'K. How often I put him to bed as a child, and sung him 
 to sleep ; but now he'll be put to bed wid a shovel, and the song 
 was never sung that will awaken him. 
 
 Mol. If any words could put life into him, I have come to 
 speak them. Kobert Ffolliot has been pardoned and returned 
 home a free man. 
 
 All. Hurra ! Hurra ! 
 
 Mol. But his home is desolate, for the girl he loved has been 
 stolen away. The man who robbed him of his liberty first and 
 then of his estate, has now stolen his betrothed — Mr. Corry Kin- 
 chella. The ruffians who shot the brave fellow who lies there 
 were led by Kinchella's agent, Harvey Duff. 
 
 All. Harvey Duff. 
 
 Biddy. Harvey Duff sent my boy across the sea. 
 
 Doyle. I've a long reckoning agin him and I keep it warm. 
 
 Mrs. O'K. I've a short one and there he lies. 
 
 All. "Where is he ? 
 
 Mol. Kinchella and his men are hiding in some den where they 
 hold Miss O'Neale and Moya prisoners. 
 
]4 THE " OOLAGHATJN." 
 
 All. Moya Doolan ? 
 
 Mol. The niece of your minister, the sweetheart of poor Conn. 
 My men shall aid yon in your search ; but you are familiar with 
 every nook and corner in the whole county. You must direct it. 
 Eobert Ffolliot awaits you at Suilabeg to lead the hunt. That is, 
 after you have paid your melancholy respects to the Shaugraun. 
 
 Mrs. O'K. No ; ye couldn't plaze him better than to go now. 
 Bring back the news that you have revenged his murder, and he'll 
 go under the sod wid a light heart. 
 
 ( All exit, except Keilly, Sullivan and Conn. 
 
 Reilly. Away wid ye, while I go warn Harvey Duff. 
 
 Both. Murther alive ! 
 
 Conn. That's it. Murther alive ! That is what I am — a murther 
 that will live to see you both hung for it. I'll be at your wake, 
 and, begorra, I'll give ye both a fine character. ( They rush to the 
 door.) Aisy, boys, aisy; the door is fast, and here's the key; 
 ye're in a fine trap. Oho ! ye made a mistake last night. 
 
 Reilly. Did ye forget that ye are dead ? 
 
 Sullivan. Sure, if we made a mistake last night, we can repair 
 it now. 
 
 Conn. Oh, tare an' ages, what'U I do ? 
 
 Reilly. We'll just lay ye out comfortable again, where ye wor ; 
 divil a sowl will be any the wiser. 
 
 Conn. Help I help! 
 
 Reilly. They are" all miles away by this time ; screechin' won't 
 save ye. 
 
 Conn. Help! help! 
 
 Sull. Shut the windy. I'll quiet him. 
 
 Mol. (at window.) Drop those knives ! Do you hear what I 
 said ? Drop those knives ! Now open the door. 
 
 Conn. Yes, here's the kay. 
 
 Mol. If you put your head outside that cabin, I'll put a bullet 
 in it. 
 
 Conn, (to Sullivan.) Help me up; the hangman will do as 
 much for you some day. 
 
 Mol. "What men are these ? 
 
 Conn. A couple of Kinchella's chickens ; they know the road we 
 want to travel. 
 
 Mol. Take that pistol — do you know how to use it ? 
 
KIP VAX WINKLE. 15 
 
 Conn. I'll try. 
 
 Mol. Attention ! attention ! Put your hands in your pockets. 
 
 Now take me right to where your employer, Mr. Kinchella, has im- 
 prisoned Miss O'Neal and Moya, and if on the road you take your 
 hands out of your pockets, or attempt to move beyond the reach of 
 my sword, upon my honor, as an officer and a gentleman, I'll cut 
 you down. Forward ! 
 
 Conn. Attention ! Put your hand in my pocket. Now take me 
 straight to where Moya Doolan 's shut up, and if you stir a peg out 
 o' that on the road, by the piper that played before Julius Csesar, I'll 
 save the county six feet of rope. 
 
 RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 The following scene is taken from the first act of the celebrated 
 play of Kip Yan Winkle, as recited by Mr. Burbank, with the 
 special permission of Mr. Joseph Jefferson. 
 
 The language is hut slightly altered and adapted from the original, 
 to make it more manageable as a monologue. 
 
 The characters introduced are — 
 
 Eip Yan Winkle. 
 
 Derrick Yon Beekman, the villain of the play, icho endeavors 
 to get Rip drunk, in order to have him sign away his property to 
 Yon Beekman. 
 
 Nick Yedder, the village inn-keeper. 
 
 Scene. — The Village Inn. 
 
 Present, Yon Beekman, alone. 
 
 Enter Rip, shaking off the Children, ivho cling about him like flies 
 to a lump of sugar 
 
 Rip. (to the Children.) Say ! hullo, dere, du Yacob Stein ! du 
 kleine spitzboob. Let dat dog Schneider alone, will you ? "Dere, 
 I tole you dat all de time, if you dou'd let him alone he's goin' to 
 
16 RIP VAN WINKLE, 
 
 "bide you! "Why, hullo, Derrick! how you was? Ach, my! 
 Did you hear dem liddle fellers just now ? Dey most plague me 
 crazy. Ha, ha, ha! I like to laugh my outsides in every time I 
 tiuk about it. Just now, as we was comin' along togedder, Schnei- 
 der and me — I don'd know if you know Schneider my self f Well, 
 he's my dog. Well, dem liddle fellers, dey took Schneider, und— 
 ha, ha, ha !— dey — ha, ha ! — dey tied a tin kettle mit Ms tail ! Ha, 
 ha, ha ! My gracious ! of you had seen dat dog run ! My, how 
 scared he was ! Tell, he was a-runnin' an' de kettle was a-bangin' 
 an'— ha, ha, ha! you believe it, dat dog, he run right betwixt me 
 an' my legs ! Ha, ha, ha ! He spill me und all dem liddle fellers 
 down in de mud togedder. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Yon Beekman. Ah, yes, that's all right, Kip, very funny, very 
 fanny ; but what do you say to a glass of liquor, Rip ? 
 
 Rip. Well, now, Derrick, what do I generally say to a glass 1 
 I generally say it's a good ting, don'd I ? Und I generally say a 
 good deal more to what is in it, dan to de glass. 
 
 Yon B. Certainly, certainly ! Say, hallo, there ! Kick Yedder, 
 bring out a bottle of your best ! 
 
 Rip. Dat 's right — till 'em up. You wouldn't belie ve it, Derrick, 
 but dat is de first one I have had to-day. I guess maybe de 
 reason is, I couldn't got it before. Ah, Derrick, my score is too 
 big! Well, here is your good health und your family's— may 
 they all live long und prosper. (They drink.) Ach! you may well 
 smack your lips, und go ah, ah ! over dat liquor. You don'd give 
 me such liquor like dat every day, Mck Yedder. Well, come on, 
 fill 'em up again. Git out mit dat water, Kick Yedder, I don'd 
 want no water in my liquor. Good liquor und water, Derrick, is 
 just like man und wife, dey don'd agree well togedder — dat's me 
 und my wife, any way. Well, come on again. Here is your good 
 health und your family's, und may dey all live long und prosper ! 
 
 Kick Yedder. That's right, Rip ; drink away, and " drown your 
 sorrows in the flowing bowl." 
 
 Rip. Drown my sorrows ? Ya, dat's all very well, but slie don'd 
 drown. My wife is my sorrow und you can't drown her; she tried 
 it once, but she couldn't do it. What, didn't you hear about dat, 
 de day what Gretchen she bike to got drownded ? Ach, my ; dat's 
 de funniest ting in de world. I'll tell you all about it. It was de 
 same day what we got married. I bet you I don'd forgot dat day so 
 
KIT VAN WINKLE. 17 
 
 long what I live. You know dat Hudson River what dey git dem 
 boats over— well, dat's de same place. Well, you know dat boat 
 what Gretchen she was a-goin' to come over in, dat got upsetted— 
 ya, just went righd by der boddoui. But she wasn't in de boat. 
 Oh, no ; if she had been in de boat, well, den, maybe she might 
 have got drownded. You can't tell anyting at all about a ting 
 like dat ! 
 
 Yon B. Ah, no ; but I'm sure, Rip, if Gretchen were to fall into 
 the water now, you would risk your life to save her. 
 
 Rip. Would I? Well, I am not so sure about dat myself. 
 When we was first got married ? Oh, ya ; I know I would have 
 done it den, but I don'd know how it would be now. But it 
 would be a good deal more my duty now as it was den. Don'd 
 you know, Derrick, when a man gits married a long time— mit 
 his wife, he gits a good deal attached mit her, und it would be a 
 good deal more my duty now as it was den. But I don'd kno<v, 
 Derrick. I am afraid if Gretchen should fall in de water now und 
 should say, "Rip, Rip ! help me oud"— I should say, "Mrs. Yan 
 Winkle, T will just go home und tink about it." Oh, no, Derrick ; 
 if Gretchen fall in de water now she's got to swim, I told you dat — 
 ha, ha, ha, ha! Hullo! dat's her a-coniin' now; I guess it's 
 bedder I go oud! {Exit Rip. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Shortly after his conversation with Yon Beekman, Rip's wife 
 catches him carousing and dancing upon the village green with 
 the pretty girls. She drives him away in no very gentle fashion, 
 and he runs away from her only to go and get drunker than be- 
 fore. Returning home after nightfall in a decidedly muddled con- 
 dition, he puts his head through the open window at the rear, not 
 observing his irate wife, who stands in ambush behind the clothes- 
 bars with her ever-ready broomstick, to give him a warm recep- 
 tion ; but seeing only his little daughter Meenie, of whom he is 
 very fond, and who also loves him very tenderly, Rip says : 
 
 Meenie ! Meenie, my darlin' ! 
 Meenie. Hush-sh-h. 
 
 (Shaking finger, to indicate the presence of her mother. 
 Rip. Eh! what's de matter? I don'd see noting, my darlin'. 
 
18 RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 Meenie. 'Sh-sh-sh! 
 
 Kip. Eh! what? Say, Meenie, is de ole wild cat home ? (Gret- 
 Chen catches him quickly by the hair.) Oh, oh! say, is dat you, 
 Gretcheu ? Say, dere, my darlin', my angel, don'd do dat. Let 
 go my head, wond you ? Well, den, hold on to it so long what you 
 like. (Gretchen releases him.) Dere, now, look at dat, see what 
 you done— you gone pull out a whole handful of hah*. "What you 
 want to do a ting like dat for ? You must want a bald-headed 
 husband, don'd you ? 
 
 Gretchen. Who was that you called a wild cat ? 
 
 Kip. Who was dat I call a wild cat? Well, now, let me see, 
 who was dat I call a wild cat ? Dat must a' been de same time I 
 come in de winder dere, wasn't it ? Yes, I know, it was de same 
 time. Well, now, let me see. {Suddenly.) It was de dog Schnei- 
 der dat I call it. 
 
 Gretchen. The dog Schneider? That's a likely story. 
 
 Rip. Why, of course it is a likely story— ain't he my dog ? Well ■, 
 den, I call him a wild cat just so much what I like, so dere now. 
 (Gretchen begins to weep.) Oh, well; dere, now, don'd you cry, 
 don'd you cry, Gretchen ; you hear what I said ? Lisden now. If 
 you don'd cry, I nefer drink anoder drop of liquor in my life. 
 
 Gretchen. {crying. ) Oh, Rip ! you have said so so many, many 
 times, and you never kept your word yet. 
 
 Rip. Well, I say it dis time, and I mean it. 
 
 Gretchen. Oh, Rip ! if I could only trust you. 
 
 Rip. You mustn't suspect me. Can't you see repentance in 
 my eye ? 
 
 Grktchen. Rip, if you will only keep your word, I shall be the 
 happiest woman in the world. 
 
 Rip. You can believe it. I nefer drink anoder drop so long 
 what I live, if you don'd cry. 
 
 Gretchen. Oh, Rip, how happy we shall be ! And you'll get 
 back all the village, Rip, just as you used to have it ; and you'll 
 fix up our little house so nicely ; and you and I, and our darling 
 little Meenie, here— how happy we shall be ! 
 
 Rip. Dere, dere, now ! you can be just so happy what you like. 
 Go in de odder room, go along mit you ; I come in dere pooty 
 quick. {Exit Gretchen and Meenie.) My! I swore off fon 
 drinkin' so many, many times, and I never kep' my word yet. 
 
RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 19 
 
 (Taking out bottle.) I don'd believe dere is more as one good 
 drink in dat bottle, anyway. It's a pity to waste it ! Yon goin' 
 to drink dat? Well, now, if you do, it is de last one, remember 
 dat, old feller. Well, here is your goot held, und— 
 
 Enter Gretchen, suddenly, icho snatches the bottle from him. 
 
 Gretchen. Oh, you brute ! you paltry thief! 
 
 Rip. Hold on dere, my dear, you will spill de liquor. 
 
 Gretchen. Yes, I will spill it, you drunken scoundrel ! (Throw- 
 ing away the bottle.) That's the last drop you ever drink under 
 this roof. 
 
 Rip. (slowly, after a moment's silence, as if stunned by her 
 severity.) Eh! what? 
 
 Gretchen. Out, I say ! you drink no more here. 
 
 Rip. What? Gretchen, are you goin to drive me away? 
 
 Gretchen. Yes ! Acre by acre, foot by foot, you have sold 
 everything that ever belonged to you for liquor. Thank Heaven 
 this house is mine, and you can't sell it. 
 
 Rip. (rapidly sobering, as he begins to realize the gravity of the 
 situation.) Yours? yours? Ya, you are right— it is yours; I have 
 got no home. (In broken tones, almost sobbing.) But where will 
 I go? 
 
 Gretchen. Anywhere ! out into the storm, to the mountains. 
 There's the door — never let your face darken it again. 
 
 Rip. What, Gretchen ! are you goin' to drive me away like a 
 dog on a night like dis ? 
 
 Gretchen. Yes; out with you! You have no longer a share 
 in me or mine. (Breaking down and sobbing with the intensity of 
 her passion. 
 
 Rip. (very slowly and quietly, but with great intensity.) Well, 
 den, I will go ; you have drive me away like a dog, Gretchen, and 
 I will go. But remember, Gretchen, after what you have told me 
 here to-night, I can never come back. You have open de door for 
 me to go ; you will never open it for me to return. But, Gretchen, 
 you tell me dat I have no longer a share here. (Points at the 
 child, who kneels crying at his feet.) Good-by, (tcith much emo- 
 tion) my darlin'. God bless you ! Don'd you nefer forgit your fader. 
 Gretchen, (with a great sob) I wipe de disgrace from your door. 
 Good-by, good-by ! (Exit Rip into the storm. 
 
20 THE DEATH OF THE OLD SQUIRE. 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE OLD SQUIRE. 
 
 Head ivilh great success by Charlotte Cushman. 
 
 'Twas a wild, mad kind of night, as black as the bottomless pit ; 
 The wind was howling away like a Bedlamite in a lit, 
 Tearing the ash boughs oft", and mowing the poplars down, 
 In the meadows beyond the old flour mill, where you turn off to 
 the town. 
 
 And the rain (well, it did rain) dashing against the window glass, 
 And deluging on the roof, as the Devil were come to pass ; 
 The gutters were running in floods outside the stable door, 
 And the spouts splashed from the tiles, as they would never give 
 o'er. 
 
 Lor', how the winders rattled ! you'd almost ha' thought that 
 
 thieves 
 "Were wrenching at the shutters, while a ceaseles pelt of leaves 
 Flew to the doors in gusts ; and I could hear the beck 
 Falling so loud I knew at once it was up to a tall man's neck. 
 
 Vc was huddling in the harness-room, by a little scrap of fire, 
 And Tom, the coachman, he was there, a-practicing for the choir; 
 But it sounded dismal, anthem did, for Squire was dying fast, 
 And the doctor said, do what he would, Squire's breaking up at last. 
 The death-watch, sure enough, ticked loud just over th' owd 
 
 mare's head, 
 Though he had never once been heard up there since master's boy 
 
 lay dead ; 
 And the only sound, beside Tom's toon, was the stirring in the 
 
 stalls, 
 And the gnawing and the scratching of the rats in the owd walls. 
 
 "We couldn't hear Death's foot pass by, but we knew that he was 
 
 near, 
 And the chill rain and the wind and cold made us all shake with 
 
 fear; 
 We listened to the clock up-stairs, 'twas breathing soft and low, 
 For the nurse said, at the turn of night the old Squire's soul would go. 
 
THE DEATH OF THE OLD SQUIBE. 21 
 
 Master had been a wildish man, and led a roughish life ; 
 Didn't he shoot the Bowton squire, who dared write to his wife ? 
 He beat the Kads at Hindon Town, I heard, in twenty-nine, 
 When every pail in market place was brimmed with red port wine. 
 
 And as for hunting, bless your soul, why, for forty year or more 
 He'd kept the Marley hounds, man, as his fayther did afore ; 
 Aud now to die, and in his bed— the season just begun — 
 " It made him fret," the doctor said, " as it might do any one." 
 
 And when the young sharp lawyer came to see him sign his will, 
 Squire made me blow my horn outside as we were going to kill; 
 And we turned the hounds out in the court — that seemed to do 
 
 him good ; 
 For he swore, and sent us off to seek a fox in Thornhill Wood. 
 
 But then the fever it rose high and he would go see the room 
 "Where mistress died ten years ago when Lammastide shall come ; 
 I mind the year, because our mare at Salisbury broke down ; 
 Moreover, the town-hall was burnt at Steeple Dinton Town. 
 
 It might be two, or half-past two, the wind seemed quite asleep ; 
 Tom, he was off, but I, awake, sat watch and ward to keep ; 
 The moon was up, quite glorious like, the rain no longer fell, 
 When all at once out clashed and clanged the rusty turret bell. 
 
 That hadn't been heard for twenty year, not since the Luddite days. 
 Tom he leaped up, and I leaped up, for all the house a-blaze 
 Had sure not scared us half so much, and out we ran like mad, 
 I, Tom and Joe, the whipper-in, and t' little stable lad. 
 
 "He's killed himself," that's the idea that came into my head; 
 I felt as sure as though I saw Squire Barrowly was dead ; 
 When all at once a door flew back, and he met us face to face ; 
 His scarlet coat was on his back, and he looked like the old race. 
 
 The nurse was clinging to his knees, and crying like a child ; 
 The maids were sobbing on the stairs, for he looked fierce and 
 
 wild; 
 " Saddle me Lightning Bess, my men," that's what he said to me ; 
 " The moon is up, we're sure to find at Stop or Etterly. 
 
 " Get out the dogs ; I'm well to-night, and young again and sound, 
 I'll have a run once more before they put me under ground ; 
 
22 THE DEATH OP THE OLD SQUIRE. 
 
 They brought my father home feet first, and it never shall be said 
 That his son Joe, who rode so straight, died quietly in his bed. 
 
 " Brandy V he cried ; " a tumbler full, you women howling there ;" 
 Then clapped the old black velvet cap upon his long gray hair, 
 Thrust on his boots, snatched down his whip, though he was old 
 
 and weak ; 
 There was a devil in his eye that would not let me speak. 
 
 We loosed the dogs to humor him, and sounded on the horn ; 
 The moon was up above the woods, just east of Haggard Bourne; 
 I buckled Lightning's throat-lash fast ; the Squire was watching 
 
 me; 
 He let the stirrups down himself so quick, yet carefully. 
 
 Then up he got and spurred the mare, and, ere I well could mount, 
 He drove the yard gate open, man, and called to old Dick Blount, 
 Our huntsman, dead five years ago — for the fever rose again, 
 And was spreading like a flood of flame fast up into his brain. 
 
 Then off he flew before the dogs, yelling to call us on, 
 
 "While we stood there, all pale and dumb, scarce knowing he was 
 
 gone ; 
 "We mounted, and below the hill we saw the fox break out, 
 And down the covert ride we heard the old Squire's parting shout. 
 
 And in the moonlit meadow mist we saw him fly the rail 
 Beyond the hurdles by the beck, just half way down the vale ; 
 I saw him breast fence after fence — nothing could turn him back ; 
 And in the moonlight after him streamed out the brave old pack. 
 
 ; Twas like a dream, Tom cried to me, as we rode free and fast, 
 Hoping to turn him at the brook, that could not well be passed, 
 For it was swollen with the rain ; but ah, 'twas not to be ; 
 ^Nothing could stop old Lightning Bess but the broad breast of the 
 
 The hounds swept on, and well in front the mare had got her 
 
 stride ; 
 She broke across the fallow land that runs by the down side ; 
 We pulled up on Chalk Linton Hill, and, as we stood us there, 
 Two fields beyond we saw the Squire fall stone dead from the mare. 
 
SCHNEIDER'S DESCRIPTION OF THE PLAY OP LEAH. 23 
 
 Then she swept on, and in fall cry the hounds went out of sight ; 
 A cloud came over the broad moon and something dimmed ouf 
 
 sight, 
 As Tom and I bore master home, both speaking under breath ; 
 And that's the way I saw th' owd Squire ride boldly to his death. 
 
 SCHNEIDER'S DESCRIPTION OF THE PLAY OF 
 LEAH. 
 
 I vant to dold you vat it is, dot's a putty nice play. De 
 first dime dot you see Leah, she runs cross a pridge, mit 
 some fellers chasm' her mit putty big shticks. Dey ketch 
 her right in de middle of der edge, und her leader (dot's de 
 villen) he sez of her, u Dot it's better ven she dies, und dot 
 he coodent allow it dot she can lip'' Und de oder fellers 
 hollers out, " So ve villj" "Give her some deth;" "Kill 
 her putty quick;" " Shmack her of der jaw," und such 
 dings ; und chust as dey vill kill her, de priest says of dem, 
 " Don'd you do dot/' und dey shtop dot putty quick. In 
 der nexd seen, dot Leah meets Rudolph (dot's her feller) 
 in de voods. Before dot he comes in, she sits of de bottom 
 of a cross, und she don't look putty lifety, und she says, 
 " Rudolph, Rudolph, how is dot, dot you don'd come und 
 see aboud me ? You didn't shpeak of me for tree days 
 long. I vant to dold you vot it is, dot ain't some luf. I 
 don'd like dot." Yell, Rudolph he don'd vas dere, so he 
 coodent sed something. But ven he comes in, she dells of 
 him dot she lufs him orful, und he says dot he guess he 
 lnfs her orful too, und vants to know vood she leef dot 
 place, und go oud in some oder country mit him. Und she 
 says, ll I told you, I vill ;" und he says, " Dot's all right," 
 und he tells her he vill meet her soon, und dey vill go vay 
 dogedder. Den he Jcisses her und goes oud, und she feels 
 honkey dorey 'bout dot. 
 
24 SCHNEIDER'S DESCRIPTION OF THE PLAT OF LEAH. 
 
 Veil, in der nexd seen, Rudolph's old man finds oud all 
 aboud dot, und he don'd feel putty goot; und he says of 
 Rudolph, "Vood you leef me, und go mit dot gal fund 
 Rudolph feels putty bad. He don'd know vot he shall do. 
 Und der old man he says, " I dold you vot I'll do. De 
 skoolmaster (dot's de villen) says dot she mighd dook 
 some money to go vay. Now, Rudolph, my poy, I'll give 
 de skoolmaster some money to gif do her, und if she don'd 
 dook dot money, I'll let you marry dot gal." Ven Rudolph 
 hears dis, he chumps mit joyness, und says, " Fader, fader, 
 dot's all righd. I baed you anydings she woodent dook 
 dot money." Yell, de old man gif de skoolmaster de money, 
 und dells him dot he shall offer dot of her. Yell, dot pluddy 
 skoolmaster comes back und says dot Leah dook dot gold 
 righd avay ven she didn't do dot. Den de old man says, 
 " Didn't I told you so ?'• und Rudolph gets so vild dot he 
 svears dot she can't haf someding more to do mit him. So 
 ven Leah vill meet him in de voods, he don'd vas dere, und 
 she feels orful, und goes avay. Bime-by she comes up to 
 Rudolph's house. She feels putty bad, and she knocks of 
 de door. De old man comes oud, und says, " Got oud of 
 dot, you orful vooman. Don'd you come round after my 
 poy again, else I put you in de dooms." Und she says, 
 u Chust let me see Rudolph vonce, und I vill vander avay." 
 So den Rudolph comes oud, und she vants to rush of his 
 arms, but dot pluddy fool voodent allow dot. He chucks 
 her avay, und says, " Don'd you touch me uf you please, 
 you deceitfulness gal." I dold you vat it is, dot looks ruff 
 for dot poor gal. Und she is extonished, und says, " Yot 
 is dis aboud dot?" Und Rudolph, orful mad, says, " Got 
 oudsiedt, you ignomonous vooman." Und she feels so orful 
 she coodent said a vord, und she goes oud. 
 
 Afterwards, Rudolph gits married to anoder gal in a 
 shurch. Yell, Leah, who is vandering eferyveres, happens 
 to go in dot shurch-yard to cry, chust at de same dime of 
 Rudolph's marriage, which she don'd know someding 
 
SCHNEIDER'S DESCRIPTION OF THE PLAY OF LEAH. 25 
 
 aboud. Putty soon she bears de organ, und she says dere 
 is some beeples gitten married, und dot it vill do her un- 
 happiuess goot if she sees dot. So she looks in de vinder, 
 und ven she sees who dot is, my graciousness, don'd she 
 holler, und shvears vengeance ! Putty soon Rudolph 
 chumps oud indo der shurch-yard to got some air. He says 
 he don'd feel putty goot. Putty soon dey see each oder, 
 und dey had a orful dime. He says of her, " Leah, how is 
 dot you been here ?" Und she say mit big scornfulness, 
 " How is dot, you got cheek to talk of me afder dot vitch 
 you hafe done V Den he says, " Veil, vot for you dook 
 dot gold, you false-hearted leetle gal?" Und she says, 
 " Vot gold is dot? I didn't dook some gold." Und he 
 says, " Don'd you dold a lie aboud dot?" She says slow- 
 fully, " I dold you I didn't dook some gold. Vot gold is 
 dot ?" Und den Kudolph tells her all aboud dot, und she 
 says, " Dot is a orful lie. I didn't seen some gold f. und 
 she adds mit much sarkasmness, " Und you beliefed I dook 
 dot gold? Dot's de vorst I efer heered. Now, on accound 
 of dot, I vill give you a few gurses." Und den she svears 
 mit orful voices dot Mister Kain's gurse should git on him, 
 und dot he coodent never git any happiness efery vere, no 
 matter vere he is. Den she valks off. Veil, den a long 
 dime passes avay, und den you see Rudolph's farm. He 
 has got a nice vife, und a putiful leetle child. Purty soon 
 Leah comes in, being shased, as ushual, by fellers mit 
 sh ticks. She looks like she didn't ead someding for two 
 monds. Rudolph's wife sends off dot mop, und Leah gits 
 avay again. Den dot nice leetle child comes oud, und 
 Leah comes back ; und ven she sees dot child, don'd she 
 feel orful aboud dot, und she says mit affectfulness, " Come 
 here, leedle child, I vooden'd harm you f und dot nice 
 leedle child goes righd up, und Leah grabs her in her arms, 
 und gries, und kisses her. Oh, my graciousness, don'd she 
 grie aboud dot ! 
 Und den she say vile she gries, u Leedle childs, don'd 
 
26 LOVE ON THE HALF-SHELL. 
 
 you got some names V Und dot leedle child shpeaks oud 
 so uice, piess her leedle hard, und says, u Oh, yes. My 
 name, dot 's Leah, and my papa tells me dot I shall pray 
 for you efery nighd." Oh, my goodnessness, don'd Leah 
 gry orful ven she hears dot ! I dold you vot it is, dot's a 
 shplaindid ding. Und quick comes dem tears in your 
 eyes, und you look up at de vail, so dot nohody can'd see 
 dot, und you make oud you don'd care aboud it. But your 
 eyes gits fulled up so quick dot you couldn'd keep dem in, 
 und de tears comes down of your face like a shnow-storm, 
 und den you don'd care if eferybody sees dot. Und Leah 
 kisses her und gries like dot her heart's broke, und she 
 dooks off dot gurse from Rudolph and goes avay. De child 
 den dell her fader und muder aboud dot, und dey pring 
 her pack. Den dot mop comes back und vill kill her again, 
 but she exposes dot skoolmaster, dot villain, und dot fixes 
 him. Den she falls down in Eudolph's arms, und your eyes 
 gits failed up again, and you can'd see someding more. 
 You couldn't help dot any vay. Und if I see a gal vot don'd 
 gry in dot piece, I voodn't marry dot gal, efen if her fader 
 owned a pig prewery. But I told you vat it is, dot's a 
 putty piece. Uncle Schneider. 
 
 LOVE ON THE HALF-SHELL. 
 
 D. T>. PROUDriT. 
 
 A Ballad of Oyster Bay. 
 [This selection should be read with a moderate stutter.] 
 
 I ain't anybody in particular, 
 
 And never caV elated to be ; 
 I'm aware that rnv views doesn't signify 
 
 Except to Belinda and me ; 
 But I'm heavy on openin' oysters— 
 
 In regards to them I am free 
 
LOVE ON THE HALF-SHELL. 27 
 
 To remark that for shellin' of Blue Points, 
 There is few that can lay over me. 
 
 Excuse my perfessional blowing 
 
 It isn't the point I would make, 
 But Fin feelin' particular airy, 
 
 And uncommonly wide awake ; 
 And I've got to be talkin' about it, 
 
 It won't lay quiet, you see ; 
 "Which the name of the girl is Belinda, 
 
 That's took an affection for me. 
 
 It's surprisin' — the fact is surprisin' — 
 
 Just cast your eye over this frame I 
 Is there anything 'specially gallus 
 
 "Which characterizes the same ? 
 As a model for makin' wax riggers 
 
 I shouldn't make much of a stir ; 
 But I ain't a-goin' to worry, 
 
 So long as I'm pleasin' to her. 
 
 An impediment hinders my speakhr* 
 
 As I should admire to do ; 
 As an elocutin' perfessor 
 
 My scholars would likely be few ; 
 But she said, when I mentioned it to her, 
 
 ""Why, dear, don't you fret, for, you see, 
 You tell me you love me, my darling, 
 
 And your voice is like music to me." 
 
 I was never indicted for intellect, 
 
 Nor never arrested for cheek ; 
 But I'm holdin' my head elevated 
 
 Since Thursday night was a week ; 
 For that wus the date when Belinda 
 
 Allowed she was partial to me, 
 And give me a relish for livin', 
 
 And a notion of workin' for she. 
 
 She isn't egzactly a beauty, 
 And also she uses a crutch ; 
 
28 FATHER PHIL'S COLLECTION. 
 
 But the eyes of that dear little cripple 
 The heart of an oyster would touch. 
 
 They is wonderful soft, and so lovin', 
 A good-lookin' face on the whole, 
 
 Fur the light in them eyes seems to travel 
 Eight out from a beautiful soul. 
 
 If she had been lively and hearty 
 
 I couldn't have helped her, you see ; 
 And similar, then, it ain't likely 
 
 That she would have took up with me ; 
 And I shouldn't have knowed her and loved her, 
 
 So patient and gentle and sweet ; 
 And I wish that the whole of creation 
 
 I could lay at her poor little feet. 
 
 I was never so chirk and galloptious, 
 
 And never before felt so spry ; 
 And I've just took to noticm' lately 
 
 How amazin'ly blue is the sky ; 
 And how gay is the stars in the night-time, 
 
 A-winkin' and glimmerin' down — 
 Good gracious ! I come near forgettm' 
 
 That barrel of oysters for Brown ! 
 
 FATHEK PHIL'S COLLECTION. 
 
 SAMUEL T.OVEH. 
 
 Abridged for Public Beading. 
 
 Father Blake was more familiarly known by the name 
 of Father Phil. By either title, or in whatever capacity, the 
 worthy Father had great influence over his parish, and 
 there was a free-and-easy way with him. even in doing the 
 most solemn duties, which agreed wonderfully with the 
 devil-may-care spirit of Paddy. Stiff and starched for- 
 mality in any way is repugnant to the very nature of Irish- 
 men. There are forms, it is true, and many in the Romish 
 
FATHER PHIL'S COLLECTION. 29 
 
 Church, but they are not cold forms, but attractive rather, 
 to a sensitive people ; besides, I believe those very forms, 
 when observed the least formally, are the most influential 
 on the Irish. 
 
 With all his intrinsic worth, Father Phil was, at the same 
 time, a strange man in exterior manners ; for with an abun- 
 dance of real piety, he had an abruptness of delivery, and 
 a strange way of mixing up an occasional remark to his 
 congregation in the midst of the celebration of the mass, 
 which might well startle a stranger ; but this very want of 
 formality made him beloved by the people, and they would 
 do ten times as much for Father Phil as for the severe 
 Father Dominick. 
 
 On the Sunday in question Father Phil intended deliver- 
 ing an address to his flock from the altar, urging them to 
 the necessity of bestirring themselves in the repairs of the 
 chapel, which was in a very dilapidated condition, and at 
 one end let in the rain through its worn-out thatch. A 
 subscription was necessary ; and to raise this among a very 
 impoverished people was no easy matter. The weather 
 happened to be unfavorable, which was most favorable to 
 Father Phil's purpose, for the rain dropped its arguments 
 through the roof upon the kneeling people below, in the 
 most convincing manner ; and as they endeavored to get 
 out of the wet, they pressed round the altar as much as 
 they could, for which they were reproved very smartly by 
 his Reverence in the very midst of the mass. These inter- 
 ruptions occurred sometimes in the most serious places, 
 producing a ludicrous effect, of which the worthy Father 
 was quite unconscious, in his great anxiety to make the 
 people repair the chapel. 
 
 A big woman was elbowing her way towards the rails of 
 the altar, and Father Phil, casting a sidelong glance at her, 
 sent her to the right-about, while he interrupted his appeal 
 to Heaven to address her thus : 
 
 " Agnus Dei— You'd betther jump over the rails of the 
 
30 FATHER PHIL'S COLLECTION. 
 
 althar, I think. Go along out o' that, there's plenty & 
 room in the chapel below there—" 
 
 Then he would turn to the altar, and proceed with the 
 service, till, turning again to the congregation, he per- 
 ceived some fresh offender. 
 
 " Orate, f retires 1— Will you mind what I say to you, 
 and go along out o' that ? There's room below there. Thrue 
 for you, Mrs. Finn— it's a shame for him to be thraraplin' 
 on you. Go along, Darby Casy, down there, and kneel in 
 the rain— it's a pity you haven't a decent woman's cloak 
 under you, indeed ! Orate, fratres /" 
 
 ***** * * 
 
 Again he turned to pray, and after some time he made 
 an interval in the service to address his congregation on 
 the subject of the repairs, and produced a paper contain- 
 ing the names of subscribers to that pious work who had 
 already contributed, by way of example to those who 
 had not. 
 
 " Here it is," said Father Phil— " here it is, and no deny- 
 ing it— down in black and white ; but if they who give are 
 down in black, how much blacker are those who have not 
 given at all ! But I hope they will be ashamed of them- 
 selves when I howld up those to honor who have contrib- 
 uted to the uphowlding of the house of God. And isn't it 
 ashamed o' yourselves you ought to be, to lave His house 
 in such a condition 1 and doesn't it rain a'most every Sun- 
 day, as if He wished to remind you of your duty I aren't 
 you wet to the skin a'most every Sunday ? Oh, God is 
 good to you ! to put you in mind of your duty, giving you 
 such bitther cowlds that you are coughing and sneezin' every 
 Sunday to that degree that you can't hear the blessed 
 mass for a comfort and a benefit to you ; and so you'll go 
 on sneezin' until you put a good thatch on the place, and 
 prevent the appearance of the evidence from Heaven 
 against you every Sunday, which is condemning you before 
 your faces, and behind your backs too, for don't I see this 
 
FATHER PHIL'S COLLECTION. 31 
 
 minute a strain e o' wather that might turn a mill running 
 down Micky Mackavoy's back, between the collar of his 
 coat and his shirt V 
 
 Here a laugh ensued at the expense of Micky Mackavoy, 
 who certainly was under a very heavy drip from the im- 
 perfect roof. . 
 
 " And is it laughin' you are, you haythens ?" said Father 
 Phil, reproving the merriment which he himself had pur- 
 posely created, that he might reprove it. " Laughin' is it 
 you are, at your backslidings and insensibility to the honor 
 of God— laughin 7 because when you come here to be saved, 
 you are lost entirely with the wet j and how, I ask you, 
 are my words of comfort to enter your hearts when the 
 rain is pouring down your backs at the same time I Sure 
 I have no chance of turning your hearts while you are 
 undher rain that might turn a mill — but once put a good 
 roof on the house, and I will inundate you with piety ! 
 Maybe it's Father Dominick you would like to have com- 
 ing among you, who would grind your hearts to powdher 
 with his heavy words." (Here a low murmur of dissent ran 
 through the throng.) " Ha, ha ! so you wouldn't like it, I 
 see — very well, very well — take care, then, for if I find you 
 insensible to my moderate reproofs, you hard-hearted 
 haythens, you malefacthors and cruel persecuthors, that 
 won't put your hands in your pockets because your mild 
 aud quiet poor fool of a pasthor has no tongue in his head ! 
 I say, your mild, quiet poor fool of a pasthor (for I know 
 my own faults partly, God forgive me !) and I can't spake to 
 you as you deserve, you hard-living vagabonds, that are as 
 insensible to your duties as you are to the weather. I wish it 
 was sugar or salt that you were made of, and then the rain 
 might melt you if I couldn't ; but no, them naked rafthers 
 grins in your face to no purpose — you chate the house of 
 God— but take care, maybe you won't chate the divil so 
 aisy." (Here there was a sensation.) "Ha, ha! that 
 makes you open your ears, does it ? More shame for you ; 
 
32 FATHER PHIL'S COLLECTION. 
 
 you ought to despise that dirty enemy of man, and depend 
 on something better — but I see I must call you to a sense 
 of your situation with the bottomless pit undher you, and 
 no roof over you. Oh, dear ! dear 1 dear ! I'm ashamed 
 of you — throth, if I had time and sthraw enough, I'd rather 
 thatch the place myself than lose my time talking to youj 
 sure the place is more like a stable than a chapel. Oh, 
 think of that ! the house of God to be like a stable ! for 
 though our Redeemer was born in a stable, that is no rea- 
 son why you are to keep his house always like one. 
 
 " And now I will read you the list of subscribers, and it 
 will make you ashamed when you hear the names ot several 
 good and worthy Protestants in the parish, and out of it, 
 too, who have given more than the Catholics." 
 
 SUBSCRIPTION LIST 
 For the Repairs and Enlargement of Balltsloughgutthery Chapel. 
 
 Philip Blake, P. P. 
 
 Micky Hickey, £0 7s. 6d. " He might as well have 
 made it ten shillings ; but half a loaf is betther than no 
 bread." 
 
 " Plaze your Reverence," says Mick, from the body of 
 the chapel, " sure seven and sixpence is more than the half 
 of ten shillings." (A laugh.) 
 
 " Oh, how witty you are ! Faith, if you knew your 
 prayers as well as your arithmetic, it would be betther for 
 you, Micky." 
 
 Here the Father turned the laugh against Mick." 
 
 Billy Riley, £0 3s. M. u Of course he means to sub- 
 scribe again !" 
 
 John Dwyer, £0 155. Od. " That's something like ! I'll 
 be bound he's only keeping back the odd five shillings for 
 a brush full o' paint for the althar ; it's as black as a crow, 
 instead o' being white as a dove." 
 
FATHER PHIL'S COLLECTION. 33 
 
 He then hurried ever rapidly some small subscribers as 
 follows : 
 
 Peter Heffennan, £0 J 5. M. 
 
 James Murphy, £0 25. 6d. 
 
 Mat Donovan, £0 Is. 3d. 
 
 Luke Dannely, £0 35. Od. 
 
 Jack Quigly, £0 2s. Id. 
 
 Pat Finnegan, £0 2s. 2d. 
 
 Edward O'Connor, Esq., £2 Os. Od. " There's for you! 
 Edward O'Connor, Esq.— a Protestant in the parish — two 
 pounds." 
 
 " Long life to him !" cried a voice in the chapel. 
 
 " Amen !" said Father Phil ; " I'm not ashamed to be 
 clerk to so good a prayer." 
 
 Nicholas Fagan, £0 2s. 6d. 
 
 Young Nicholas Fagan, £0 5s. Od. " Young Nick is bet- 
 ther than ould Nick, you see." 
 
 Tim Doyle, £0 7s. Od. 
 
 Owny Doyle, £1 Os. Od. " Well done, Owny na Coppal— 
 you deserve to prosper, for you make good use of your 
 thrivings." 
 
 Simon Leary, £0 2s. 6d. ; Bridget Murphy, £0 10s. Od. 
 "You ought to be ashamed o' yourself, Simon: a lone 
 widow woman gives more than you." 
 
 ******* 
 
 Jude Moylan, £0 5s. Od. " Very good, Judy, the women 
 are behaving like gentlemen ; they'll have their reward in 
 the next world." 
 
 Pat Finnerty, £0 8s. 4d. u I'm not sure if it is 8s. M. or 
 3s. 4d., for the figure is blotted, but I believe it is 8s. 4tf." 
 
 " It was three and fourpince I gave your Keverence," said 
 Pat from the crowd. 
 
 " Well, Pat, as I said eight and fourpence, you must not 
 let me go back o' my word, so bring me five shillings next 
 week." 
 
 " Sure, you wouldn't have me pay for a blot, sir ?" 
 
34 FATHER PHIL'S COLLECTION. 
 
 " Yis, I would; that's the rule of backgammon, you know, 
 Pat. When I hit the mark, you pay for it." 
 
 Here his Reverence turned around, as if looking for some 
 one, and called out, " Ranerty ! Raflerty ! RafTerty ! Where 
 are you, Eaflerty f 
 
 An old gray-headed man appeared, bearing a large plate, 
 and Father Phil continued — 
 
 " There now, be active — I'm sending him amoDg you, 
 good people, and such as cannot give as much as you 
 would like to be read before your neighbors, give what lit- 
 tle you can towards the repairs, and I will continue to read 
 out the names by way of encouragement to you — and 
 the next name I see is that of Squire Egan. Long life to 
 him !" 
 
 Squire Egan, £5 Os. Od. " Squire Egan— five pounds 
 — listen to that— a Protestant in the parish— five pounds ! 
 Faith, the Protestants will make you ashamed of your- 
 selves if you don't take care." 
 
 Mrs. Flanagan, £2 Os. Od. u Not her own parish, either 
 — a fine lady." 
 
 James Milligan of Roundtown, £1 Os. Od. " And here I 
 must remark that the people of Roundtown have not been 
 backward in coming forward on this occasion. I have a 
 long list from Roundtown— I will read it separate." He 
 then proceeded at a great pace, jumbling the town and the 
 pounds and the people in the most extraordinary manner : 
 " James Milligan of Roundtown, one pound ; Darby Daly 
 of Roundtown, one pound; Sam Finnegan of Roundtown, 
 one pound ; James Casey of Roundpound, one town ; Kit 
 Dwyer of Townpound, one round— pound, I mane; Pat 
 Roundpound — Pounden, I mane— Pat Pounden a pound of 
 Poundtown also— there's an example for you ! — 
 
 u But what are you about, Rafferty ? I don't like the 
 sound of that plate of yours — you are not a good gleaner- 
 go up first into the gallery there, where I see so many 
 good-looking bonnets— I suppose they will give something 
 
FATHER PHIL'S COLLECTION. 35 
 
 to keep their bonnets out of the rain, for the wet will be 
 into the gallery next Sunday if they don't. I think that is 
 Kitty Crow I see, getting her bit of silver ready ; them 
 ribbons of yours cost a thrifle, Kitty— Well, good Chris- 
 tians, here is more of the subscription for you." 
 
 Matthew Lavery, £0 2s. 6d. "■ He doesn't belong to 
 Roundtown — Roundtown will be renowned in future ages 
 for the support of the Church. Mark my words ! Round- 
 town will prosper from this day out— Roundtown will be a 
 rising place." 
 
 Mark Hennessy, £0 2s. 6d; Luke Clancy, £0 25. 6d.; 
 John Doolin, £0 2s. 6d. " One would think they had all 
 agreed only to give two and. sixpence apiece. And they 
 comfortable men, too ! And look at their names — Matthew, 
 Mark, Luke and John— the names of the blessed Evangel- 
 ists, and only ten shillings among them. Oh, they are 
 apostles not worthy the name— we'll call them the poor 
 apostles from this out !" (Here a low laugh ran through 
 the chapel.) ** Do you hear that, Matthew, Mark, Luke 
 and John ? Faith ! I can toll you that name will stick to 
 you." (Here the laugh was louder.) 
 
 A voice, when the laugh subsided, exclaimed, " Fll make 
 it ten shillin's, your Reverence." 
 
 " Who's that ?" said Father Phil. 
 
 "Hennessy, your Reverence." 
 
 " Very well, Mark. I suppose Matthew, Luke and John 
 will follow your example ?" 
 
 " We will, your Reverence." 
 
 " Ha ! I thought you made a mistake ; we'll call you now 
 the faithful apostles — and 1 think the change in your name 
 is better than seven and sixpence apiece to you." 
 
 " 1 see you in the gallery there, Rafferty. What do you 
 pass that well-dressed woman for f thry back— Ha ! see 
 that, she had her money ready if you only asked her for it 
 — don't go by that other woman there — Oh, ho ! So you 
 won't give anything, ma'am ! You ought to be ashamed 
 
36 FATHER THIL'S COLLECTION. 
 
 of yourself. There is a woman with an elegant sthraw 
 bonnet, and she won't give a farthing. Well now, afther 
 that, remember— I give it from the althar, that from this 
 day out sthraw bonnets pay fi'penny pieces." 
 
 Thomas Durfy, Esq., £1 05. Od. " It's not his parish, 
 and he 7 s a brave gentleman." 
 
 Miss Fanny Dawson, £ 1 05. Od. " A Protestant out of 
 the parish, and a sweet young lady, God bless her! Oh, 
 faith, the Protestants is shaming you !" 
 
 Dennis Fannin, £0 7s. M. " Very good indeed, for a 
 working mason." 
 
 Jemmy Riley, £0 55. Od. "Not bad for a hedge car- 
 penther." 
 
 " I gave you ten, plaze your Reverence," shouted Jem- 
 my ; " and by the same token, you may remember it was 
 on the Nativity of the blessed Vargin, sir, I gave you the 
 second five shiliin's." 
 
 " So you did, Jemmy," cried Father Phil ; " I put a little 
 cross before it, to remind me of it ; but I was in a hurry to 
 make a sick call when you gave it to me, and forgot it 
 afther : and indeed myself doesn't know what I did with 
 that same five shillings." 
 
 Here a pallid woman, who was kneeling near the rails of 
 the altar, uttered an impassioned blessing, and exclaimed, 
 " Oh, that was the very five shillings, I'm sure, you gave 
 to me that very day, to buy some little comforts for my 
 poor husband, who was dying in the fever !" and the poor 
 woman burst into loud sobs as she spoke. 
 
 A deep thrill of emotion ran through the flock as this ac- 
 cidental proof of their poor pastor's beneficence burst upon 
 them; and as an affectionate murmur began to rise above 
 the silence which that emotion produced, the burly Father 
 Philip blushed like a girl at this publication of his charity, 
 and even at the foot of that altar where he stood, felt 
 something like shame in being discovered in the commis- 
 sion of that virtue so highly commended by the Providence 
 
A LITEKAKY NIGHTMAKE. 37 
 
 to whose worship that altar was raised. He uttered a 
 hasty " Whisht, whisht !" and waved with his outstretched 
 hands his flock into silence. 
 
 In an instant one of those sudden changes so common to 
 an Irish assembly, and scarcely credible to a stranger, took 
 place. The multitude was hushed, the grotesque of the 
 subscription list had passed away and was forgotten, and 
 that same man and that same multitude stood in altered 
 relations — tliey were again a reverent flock, and lie once 
 more a solemn pastor; the natural play of his nation's 
 mirthful sarcasm was absorbed in a moment in the sacred- 
 ness of his office ; and, with a solemnity befitting the 
 highest occasion, he placed his hands together before his 
 breast, and, raising his eyes to Heaven, he poured forth 
 his sweet voice, with a tone of the deepest devotion, in that 
 reverential call for prayer, " Orate, fr aires V 
 
 The sound of a multitude gently kneeling down followed, 
 like the soft breaking of a quiet sea on a sandy beach ; and 
 when Father Philip turned to the altar to pray, his pent-up 
 feelings found vent in tears, and while he prayed he wept. 
 • I believe such scenes as this are of not unfrequent occur- 
 rence in Ireland — that country so long suffering, so much 
 maligned, and so little understood. 
 
 Oh, rulers of Ireland ! why have you not sooner learned 
 to lead that people by love, whom all your severity has 
 been unable to drive f 
 
 A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. 
 
 MARK TWAIN. 
 
 Will the reader please to cast his eye over the following 
 verses, and see if he can discover anything harmful in them I 
 " Conductor, when yon receive a fare, 
 Punch in the presence of the passenjare ! 
 A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, 
 
38 A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. 
 
 A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, 
 A pink trip slip for a three-cent fare, 
 Punch in the presence of the passenjare ! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Punch, brothers ! punch with care ! 
 
 Punch in the presence of the passenjare !" 
 I came across these jingling rhymes in a newspaper, a 
 little while ago, and read them a couple of times. They 
 took instant and entire possession of me. All through 
 breakfast they went waltzing through my brain ; and when, 
 at last, I rolled up my napkin, I could not tell whether I 
 had eaten anything or not. 1 had carefully laid out my 
 day's work the day before — a thrilling tragedy in the novel 
 which I am writing. I went to my den to begin my deed 
 of blood. I took up my pen ; but all I could get it to say 
 was, " Punch in the presence of the passenjare." I fought 
 hard for an hour, but it was useless. My head kept hum- 
 ming, u A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, a buff trip 
 slip for a six-cent fare," and so on and so on, without peace 
 or respite. The day's work was ruined — I could see that 
 plainly enough. I gave up and drifted down town, and 
 presently discovered that my feet were keeping time to 
 that relentless jingle. When I could stand it no longer I 
 altered my step. But it did no good ; those rhymes ac- 
 commodated themselves to the new step, and went on har- 
 assing me just as before. I returned home, and suffered 
 all the afternoon ; suffered all through an unconscious and 
 unrefreshing dinner ; suffered, and cried, and jingled all 
 through the evening ; went to bed, and rolled, tossed and 
 jingled right along, the same as ever; got up at midnight 
 frantic, and tried to read ; but there was nothing visible 
 upon the whirling page except " Punch ! punch in the 
 presence of the passenjare!" By sunrise I was out of my 
 mind, and everybody marveled and was distressed at the 
 idiotic burden of my ravings : " Punch ! oh, punch ! punch 
 in ihe presence of the passenjare !" 
 
A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. 39 
 
 Two days later, on Saturday morning, I arose, a totter- 
 ing wreck, and went forth to fulfill an engagement with a 
 
 valued friend, the Rev. Mr. , to walk to the Talcott 
 
 Tower, ten miles distant. He stared at me, but asked no 
 
 questions. We started. Mr. talked, talked, talked 
 
 — as is his wont. I said nothing; I heard nothing. At the 
 end of a mile, Mr. said : 
 
 " Mark, are you sick % I never saw a man look so hag- 
 gard and worn and absent-minded. Say something j do !* 
 
 Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said : u Punch, brothers! 
 punch with care ! Punch in the presence of the passenjare V 
 
 My friend eyed me blankly, looked perplexed, then said : 
 
 u I do not think I get your drift, Mark. There does not 
 seem to be any relevancy in what you have said, certainly 
 nothing sad ; and yet— maybe it was the way you said the 
 words— I never heard anything that sounded so pathetic. 
 What is—" 
 
 Bat I heard no more. I was already far away with my 
 pitiless, heart-breaking " blue trip slip for an eight-cent 
 fare, buff trir) slip for a six- cent fare, pink trip slip for a 
 three-cent fare ; punch in the presence of the passenjare." 
 I do not know what occurred daring the other nine miles. 
 
 However, all of a sudden Mr. laid his hand on my 
 
 shoulder and shouted : 
 
 "Oh, wake up! wake up! wake up! Don't sleep all 
 day ! Here we are at the Tower, man ! I have talked 
 myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never got a response. 
 Just look at this magnificent autumn landscape ! Look at 
 it! look at it ! Feast your eyes on it ! You have traveled ; 
 you have seen boasted landscapes elsewhere. Come, now, 
 deliver an honest opinion. What do you say to this f ' 
 
 I sighed wearily, and murmured : 
 
 " A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for 
 a three-cent fare, punch in the presence of the passenjare." 
 
 Rev. Mr. stood there, very grave, full of concern, 
 
 apparently, and looked long at me ; then he said : 
 
40 A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. 
 
 " Mark, there is something about this that I cannot un- 
 derstand. Those are about the same words you said be- 
 fore ; there does not seem to be anything in them, and yet 
 they nearly break my heart when you say them. Punch 
 in the— how is it they go f " 
 
 I began at the beginning and repeated all the lines. My 
 friend's face lighted with interest. He said : 
 
 " Why, what a captivating jingle it is ! It is almost 
 music. It flows along so nicely. I have nearly caught the 
 rhymes myself. Say them over just once more, and then 
 I'll have them, sure." 
 
 I said them over. Then Mr. said them. He made 
 
 one little mistake, which I corrected. The next time and 
 the next he got them right. Now a great burden seemed 
 to tumble from my shoulders. That torturing jingle de- 
 parted out of my brain, and a grateful sense of rest and 
 peace descended upon me. I was light-hearted enough to 
 sing ; and I did sing for half an hour, straight along, as 
 we went jogging homeward. Then my freed tongue found 
 blessed speech again, and the pent talk of many a weary 
 hour began to gash and flow. It flowed on and on, joyously, 
 jubilantly, until the fountain was empty and dry. As I 
 wrung my friend's hand at parting, I said : 
 
 " Haven't we had a royal good time ! But now I re- 
 member, you haven't said a word for two hours. Come, 
 come, out with something !" 
 
 The Rev. Mr. turned a lack-lustre eye upon me, 
 
 drew a deep sigh, and said, without animation, without 
 apparent consciousness : 
 
 II Punch, brothers ! punch with care ! Punch in the 
 presence of the passenjare !" 
 
 A pang shot through me as I said to myself, " Poor fel- 
 low, poor fellow ! he has got it now." 
 
 I did not see Mr. for two or three days after that. 
 
 Then, on Tuesday evening, he staggered into my presence 
 and sank dejectedly into a seat. He was pale, worn ; he 
 
A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. 41 
 
 was a wreck. Ee lifted his faded eyes to my face and said : 
 " Ah, Mark, it was a ruinous investment that I made in 
 those heartless rhymes. They have ridden me like a night- 
 mare, day and night, hour after hour, to this very moment. 
 Since I saw you I have suffered the torments of the lost. 
 Saturday evening I had a sudden call by telegraph, and 
 took the night train for Boston. The occasion was the 
 death of a valued old friend, who had requested that I 
 should preach his funeral sermon. I took my seat in the 
 cars and set myself to framing the discourse. But I never 
 got beyond the opening paragraph; for then the train 
 started and the car- wheels began their ' clack-clack-clack- 
 clack ! clack-clack-clack-clack !' and right away those 
 odious rhymes fitted themselves to that accompaniment. 
 For an hour I sat there and set a syllable of those rhymes 
 to every separate and distinct clack the car-wheels made. 
 Why, I was as fagged out then as if I had been chopping 
 wood all day. My skull was splitting with headache. It 
 seemed to me that I must go mad if I sat there any longer ; 
 so I undressed* and went to bed. I stretched myself out in 
 my berth, and— well, you know what the result was. The 
 thing went right along, just the same. ' Clack-clack- 
 clack, a blue trip slip, clack-clack-clack, for an eight-cent 
 fare ; clack-clack-clack, a buff trip slip, clack-clack-clack, 
 for a six-cent fare— and so on, and so on, and so on— punch 
 in the presence of the passenjare !' Sleep f Not a single 
 wink ! I was almost a lunatic when I got to Boston. Don't 
 ask me about the funeral. I did the best I could ; but 
 every solemn individual sentence was meshed and tangled 
 and woven in and out with ' Punch, brothers ! punch with 
 care ! punch in the presence of the passenjare.' And the 
 most distressing thing was that my delivery dropped into 
 the undulating rhythm of those pulsing rhymes, and I 
 could actually catch absent-minded people nodding time 
 to the swing of it with their stupid heads. And, Mark, 
 you may believe it or not, but before I got through, the 
 
42 A LITERARY NIGHTMARE. 
 
 entire assemblage were placidly bobbing their head in 
 solemn unison, mourners, undertaker, and all. The mo- 
 ment 1 had finished, I fled to the anteroom in a state bor- 
 dering on frenzy. Of course it would be my luck to find a 
 sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of the deceased there, 
 who had arrived from Springfield too late to get into the 
 church. She began to sob, and said : 
 
 " ' Oh, oh, he is gone, he is gone, and I didn't see him 
 before he died V 
 
 " ' Yes P I said, t he is gone, he is gone, he is gone — oh, 
 ivill this suffering never cease V 
 
 " i You loved him, then ! Oh, you too loved him V 
 
 " ' Loved him ! Loved who V 
 
 " ' Why, my poor George ! my poor nephew V 
 
 u ' Oh— him ! Yes— oh, yes, yes. Certainly — certainly. 
 Punch — punch — oh, this misery will kill me!' 
 
 " ' Bless you ! bless you, sir, for those sweet words ! J, 
 too, sutler in this dear loss. Were you present during his 
 last moments V 
 
 " ' Yes ! I — whose last moments V 
 
 11 ' His. The dear departed's.' 
 
 " 'Yes ! Oh, yes — yes — yes! I suppose so, I think so, I 
 don't know ! Oh, certainly — I was there— J was there !' 
 
 " ' Oh, what a privilege ! what a precious privilege. 
 And his last words— oh, tell me — tell me his last words ! 
 What did he say V 
 
 u l He said— he said— oh, my head, my head, my head ! 
 He said — he said — lie never said anything but Punch, 
 punch, punch in the presence of the passenjare ! Oh, leave 
 me, madam ! In the name of all that is generous, leave me 
 to my madness, my misery, my despair !— a buff trip slip 
 for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare— 
 endu-rance can no fur-ther go ! — punch in the presence of 
 the passenjare !' " 
 
 My friend's hopeless eyes rested on mine a pregnant 
 minute, and then he said impressively : 
 
THE BIRTH OF IRELAND. 43 
 
 " Mark, you do not say anything. You do not offer me 
 any hope. But, ah me, it is just as well — it is just as well. 
 You could not do me any good. The time has long gone 
 by when words could comfort me. SomethiDg tells me 
 that my tongue is doomed to wag forever to the jigger of 
 that remorseless jingle. There— there it is coming on me 
 again : a blue trip slip for an eight- cent fare, a buff trip 
 slip for a—" 
 
 Thus murmuring faint and fainter, my friend sank into 
 a peaceful trance, and forgot his sufferings in a blessed 
 respite. 
 
 How did I finally save him from the asylum ? I took him 
 to a neighboring university, and made him discharge the 
 burden of his persecuting rhymes into the eager ears of 
 the poor unthinking students. How is it with them, now ! 
 The result is too sad to tell. Why did I write this article ? 
 It was for a worthy, even a noble purpose. It was to warn 
 you, reader, if you should come across those merciless 
 rhymes, to avoid them— avoid them as you would a pesti- 
 lence ! 
 
 THE BIRTH OF IRELAND. 
 
 From the National Teacher's Monthly. 
 
 " "With due condescension, I'd call your attention to what I shall 
 mention of Erin so green, 
 
 And, without hesitation, I'll show how that nation became, of crea- 
 tion, the gem and the queen. 
 
 '"Twas early one morning, without any warning, that Yanus was 
 
 born in the beautiful Say ; 
 And, by the same token, and sure 'twas provoking, her pinions 
 
 were soaking, and wouldn't give play. 
 
 " Old Neptune, who knew her, began to pursue her, in order to 
 woo her — the wicked old Jew — 
 
44 THE IRISHMAN'S PANORAMA. 
 
 And almost had caught her atop of the "water— great Jupiter's 
 daughter ! — which never would do. 
 
 " But Jove, the great janius, looked down and saw Yanus and 
 Neptune so heinous pursuing her wild, 
 
 And he spoke out in thunder he'd rend him asunder— and sure 
 'twas no wonder — for tazing his child. 
 
 "A star that was flying hard by him espying, he caught with 
 
 small trying and down let it snap ; 
 It fell quick as winking on Neptune a-sinking, and gave him, I'm 
 
 thinking, a bit of a rap. 
 
 " That star it was dryland, doth lowland and highland, and formed 
 
 a sweet island, the land of my birth : 
 Thus plain is the story that, sent down from glory, old Erin 
 
 asthore is the gem of the earth ! 
 
 " Upon Erin nately jumped Vanus so stately, but fainted lose 
 
 lately so hard she was pressed ; 
 "Which much did bewilder, but, ere it had killed her, her father 
 
 distilled her a drop of the best. 
 
 *' That sup was victorious ; it made her feel glorious— a little up- 
 roarious, I fear it might prove- 
 So how can ye blame us that Ireland's so famous for drinking and 
 beauty, for fighting and love f ' 
 
 THE IRISHMAN'S PANORAMA. 
 
 Kindness of Mr. Jas. Burdkttk, Humorist and Dramatic Recitationist. 
 
 Ladies and Gintlemin : In the foreground over there 
 ye's '11 obsarve Vinegar Hill, an' should yer be goin' by 
 that way some day, yer inoight be fatigued, an' if ye are 
 yer'll foind at the fut of the hill a nate little cot kept by -a 
 man named McCarty, who, by the way, is as foine a lad as 
 you'll mate in a day's march. I see by the hasp on the 
 door that McCarty is out, or I'd tali' yes in an' introduce 
 yes. A foine, ginerous, noble feller is this McCarty. 
 
THE IRISHMAN'S PANORAMA. 45 
 
 Shure an' if he had but the wan peratie he'd give yes the 
 half of that, and phat's more, he'd thank ye for takin' it. 
 (James, move the crank ! Larry, music on the bag-pipes !) 
 
 Ladies and Gintlemin : We've now arrived at a beauti- 
 ful spot, situated about twenty miles this side o' Limerick. 
 To the left over there yer'll see a hut, by the side of which 
 is sated a lady and gintleman j well, as I was goin' that 
 way wan day I heard the following conversation betwixt 
 him an' her. Says she to him : "James, it's a shame for 
 yer to be tratin' me so ; d'ye moind the toime yer used to 
 come to me father's castle a-beggin' ?" " Yer father's cas- 
 tle— me ? Well, thin ! ye could sthand on the outside of 
 yer father's castle, an' stick yer arm down the chimney an' 
 pick praties out of the pot, an' divil a partition betwixt 
 you and the pigs but sthraw." (Move the crank, etc.) 
 
 Ladies an' Gintlemin : We have now arrived at the 
 beautiful an' classical Lakes of Killarney. There's a 
 curious legend connected wid dese lakes that I must re- 
 late to you. It is that every evenin' at four o'clock in the 
 afternoon a beautiful swan is seen to make its appearance, 
 an' while movin' transcendentally an' glidelessly along, 
 ducks its head, skips under the water, an' you'll not see 
 him till the next afternoon. (Turn the crank, etc.) 
 
 Ladies an' Grintlemin : We have now arrived at another 
 beautiful spot, situated about thirteen and a half miles 
 this side of Cork. This is a grate place, noted for sports- 
 min. Wanst, while sthoppin' over there at the hotel de 
 Finney, the following tilt of a conversation occurred be- 
 twixt Mr. Muldooney, the waiter, and mesilf. I says to him 
 says I, " Mully, old boy, will you have the kindness to 
 fetch me the mustard f " and he was a long time bring- 
 in' it, so I opportuned him for kapin' me. An' says he to 
 me, says he, u Mr. McCune " (that's me), " I notice that you 
 take a grate dale of mustard wid your mate." il I do," 
 says I. Says he, "I notice you take a blame sight of mate 
 wid your mustard." (Move the crank, etc.) 
 
46 MONEY MUSK. 
 
 Ladies an' Gintlemin : We now skhip acrost the broad 
 Atlantic to a wonderful sphot in America, situated a few 
 miles from Chinchinnatti, Ohoho, called the Falls of Niag- 
 ara. While lingerin' here wan day I saw a young couple, 
 evidently very sweet on aich other. Av coorse I tuk no 
 notice of phat they were say in', but I couldn't help listenin* 
 to the folio win 7 extraordinary conversation. Says he to her : 
 " Isn't it wonderful to see that tremindous amount of water 
 coram' down over that terrible precipice. " Yis, darlint," 
 says she, u but wouldn't it be far more wonderful to see the 
 same tremindous body of water a-goin' up that same preci- 
 pice V (Move the crank, etc.) 
 
 MONEY MUSK. 
 
 BENJ. F. TAYLOR. 
 
 Abridged for Public Reading. 
 ****** 
 
 Ah, the buxom girls that helped the boys — 
 The nobler Helens of humbler Troys — 
 As they stripped the husks with rustling fold 
 From eight-rowed corn as yellow as gold, 
 
 By the candle-light in pumpkin bowls, 
 And the gleams that showed fantastic holes 
 In the quaint old lantern's tattooed tin, 
 From the hermit glim set up within ; 
 
 By the rarer light in girlish eyes 
 As dark as wells, or as blue as skies. 
 I hear the laugh when the ear is red, 
 I see the blush with the forfeit paid, 
 
 The cedar cakes with the ancient twist, 
 The cider cup that the girls have kissed. 
 And I see the fiddler through the dusk 
 As he twangs the ghost of " Money Musk !" 
 
MONEY MUSK. 47 
 
 The boys and girls in a double row 
 "Wait face to face till the magic bow 
 Shall whip the tune from the violin, 
 And the merry pulse of the feet begin. 
 
 MONET MUSK. 
 In shirt of check, and tallowed hair, 
 The fiddler sits in the bulrush chair 
 like Moses' basket stranded there 
 
 On the brink of Father Mle. 
 He feels the fiddle's slender neck, 
 Picks out the note, with thrum and check; 
 And times the tune with nod and beck, 
 
 And thinks it a weary while. 
 All ready ! Now he gives the call, 
 Cries, "Honor to the ladies!" All 
 The jolly tides of laughter fall 
 
 And ebb in a happy smile. 
 
 " Begin." D-o-w-n comes the bow on every string, 
 "First couple join right hands and swing /" 
 As light as any blue- bird's wing 
 
 "Swing once and a half times round? 
 "Whirls Mary Martin all in blue — 
 Calico gown and stockings new, 
 And tinted eyes that tell you true, 
 
 Dance all to the dancing sound. 
 
 She flits about big Moses Brown, 
 "Who holds her hands to keep her down 
 And thinks her hair a golden crown, 
 
 And his heart turns over once ! 
 His cheek with Mary's breath is wet, 
 It gives a second somerset ! 
 He means to win the maiden yet, 
 
 Alas, for the awkward dance ! 
 
 " Tour stoga boot has crushed my toe !" 
 "I'd rather dance with one-legged Joe !" 
 11 You clumsy fellow !" " Pass below !" 
 And the first pair dance apart. 
 
48 THE SHIP OF FAITH. 
 
 Then " Forward six !" advance, retreat, 
 Like midges gay in sunbeam street 
 "lis Money Musk by merry feet 
 
 And the Money Musk by heart! 
 
 " Three quarters round your partner swing !" 
 "Across the set !" The rafters ring, 
 The girls and boys have taken wing 
 
 And have brought their roses out! 
 'Tis Forward six /" with rustic grace, 
 Ah, rarer far than—" Swing to place!" 
 Than golden clouds of old point-lace 
 
 They bring the dance about. 
 
 Then clasping hands all—" Eight and left !" 
 All swiftly weave the measure deft 
 Across the woof in loving weft, 
 
 And the Money Musk is done I 
 Oh, dancers of the rustling husk, 
 Good night, sweet hearts, 'tis growing dusk, 
 Good night for aye to Money Musk, 
 
 For the heavy march begun! 
 
 THE SHIP OF FAITH. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 A certain colored brother had been holding forth to his 
 little flock upon the ever-fruitful topic of Faith, and he 
 closed his exhortation about as follows : 
 
 My bruddren, ef yous gwine to git saved, you got to 
 git on board de Ship ob Faith. I tell you, my bruddren, 
 dere ain't no odder way. Dere ain't no gitten up de back 
 stairs, nor goin' 'cross lots; you can't do dat away, my 
 bruddren, you got to git on board de Ship of Faith. Once 
 'pon a time dere was a lot ob colored people, an' dey was 
 all gwine to de promised land. Well, dey knowed dere want 
 no odder way for 'em to do but to git on board de Ship of 
 
THE SHIP OF FAITH. 49 
 
 Faith. So dey all went down an' got on board, de ole gran- 
 faders, an'de ole granmudders, an' de pickaninnies, an' all de 
 res' ob 'em. Dey all got on board 'ceptin 7 one mons'us big 
 feller, be said he's gwine to swim, he was. "W 7 y!" dey 
 said, "you can't swim so fur like dat. It am a powerful 
 long way to de promised land !" He said, " I kin swim 
 anywhur, I kin. I git board no boat, no, 'deed l» Well, 
 my bruddren, all dey could say to dat poor disluded man 
 dey couldn't git him on board de Ship of Faith, so dey 
 started ofl". De day was fair, de win' right j de sun shinin' 
 and ev'ryt'ing b'utiful, an' dis big feller he pull off his close 
 and plunge in de water. Well, he war a powerful swim- 
 mer, dat man, 'deed he war ; he war dat powerful he kep' 
 right 'long side de boat all de time ; he kep' ahollerin' out 
 to de people on de boat, sayin' : " What you doin 7 dere, 
 you folks, brilin' away in de sun j you better come down 
 heah in de water, nice an' cool down here.' 7 But dey 
 said: "Man alive, you better come up here in dis boat 
 while you got a chance." But he said, " No, indeedy ! I 
 git aboard no boat ; I'm havin 7 plenty fun in de water.' 7 
 Well, bimeby, my bruddren, what you tink dat pore man 
 seen? A horrible, awful shark, my bruddren; mouf 
 wide open, teef more'n a foot long, ready to chaw dat pore 
 man all up de minute he catch him. Well, when he seen 
 dat shark he begun to git awful scared, an 7 he holler out 
 to de folks on board de ship: " Take me on board, take 
 me on board, quick !' 7 But dey said : " No, indeed; you 
 wouldn't come up here when you had an invite, you got to 
 swim now. 77 
 
 He look over his shoulder an' he seen dat shark a-comin 7 , 
 an' he let hisself out. Fust it was de man an 7 den it was 
 de shark, an' den it was de man again, dat away, my 
 bruddren, plum to de promised land. Dat am de blessed 
 troof Fm a tellin' you dis minute. But what do you 
 t'ink was a-waitin 7 for him on de odder shore when he got 
 dere f A horrible, aivful lion, my bruddren, was a-stan'm 7 
 
jO pup-pup-poetry. 
 
 dere on de shore, a-lashin' his sides wid his tail, an' 
 a-roarin' away lit to devour dat poor nigger de minit ho 
 git on der shore. Well he war powerful scared den, he 
 don't know what he gwine to do. If he stay in de water 
 de shark eat him up ; if he go on de shore de lion eat him 
 up ; he dunno what to do. But he put his trust in de Lord, 
 an' went for de shore. Dat lion he give a fearful roar an' 
 bound for him ; but, my bruddren, as sure as you 'live an' 
 breeve, dat horrible awful lion he jump clean ober dat pore 
 feller's head into de water ; an' de shark eat de lion. But, 
 my bruddren, dou't you put your trust in no sich circum- 
 stance ; dat pore man he done git saved, but I tell you de 
 Lord ainH a-givine to furnish a lion for every nigger ! 
 
 PUP-PUP-POETRY. 
 
 PUNCH. 
 
 I have found a gig-gig-girl for my faf-fuf-fair, 
 
 I have found where the rattlesnakes bub- bub-breed ; 
 
 "Will you co-co-come, and I'll show you the bub-bub-bear, 
 And the lions and tit-tit-tigers at fuf-fuf-feed. 
 
 I know where the co-co- cockatoo's sorg 
 Makes mum-mum-melody through the sweet vale ; 
 
 "Where the mum-monkey's gig-gig-grin all the day long, 
 Or gracefully swing by the tit-tail. 
 
 Tou shall pip-play, dear, some did-did delicate joke, 
 With the bub bub-bear on the tit-tit-top of his pip-pip-pole ; 
 
 But observe 'tis forbidden to pip-poke 
 At the bub-bub-bear with your pip pip-pink pip-pip-pip-parasol. 
 
 Tou shall see the huge elephant pip-pip-play ; 
 
 You shall gig-gig-gaze on the stit-stit-ately raccoon, 
 And then, did-dear, together we'll stray 
 
 To the cage of the bub-bub-blue-faced bab-bab-baboon. 
 
 You wished (I r-r-remembered it well, 
 And I lul-lul-loved you the m-m-more for the wish) 
 
 To witness the bub-bub-beautiful pip-pip-pelican 
 Swallow the 1-1-live little fuf-fuf-fish. 
 
A SENATOR ENTANGLED. 51 
 
 A SENATOR ENTANGLED. 
 
 JAMES DE MtLLE. 
 
 From The Dodge Club. 
 
 Our Senator was a man who by mere force of character, 
 apart from the adventitious aids of culture and refinement, 
 had attained wealth and position. He found it agreeable 
 —as so many other Americans have done — to take a trip 
 abroad. 
 
 He chanced to be in Florence during the recent struggle 
 for Italian independence. His friend, the Minister, took 
 him to the houses of the leaders of society, and introduced 
 him as an eminent American statesman and member of 
 the Senate. 
 
 Could any recommendation be equal to that ? Republi- 
 canism ran high. America was synonymous with the 
 Promised Land. To be a statesman in America was as 
 great a dignity as to be prince in any empire on earth. 
 
 So if the Florentines received the Senator with bound- 
 less hospitality, it was because they admired his country, 
 and reverenced his dignity. They liked to consider the 
 presence of the American Minister and Senator as an ex- 
 pression of the good- will of the American government. 
 They were determined to lionize him. It was a new sen- 
 sation to the Senator. 
 
 For two or three days he was the subject of an eager 
 contest among all the leaders of society. At length there 
 appeared upon the scene the great Vietrix in a thousand 
 contests such as these. The others fell back discomfited, 
 and the Senator became her prey. 
 
 The Countess di Nottinero was not exactly a Recamier, 
 but she was a remarkably brilliant woman, and the ac- 
 knowledged leader of the liberal part of Florentine society. 
 
 She was generally known as La Cica, a nickname given 
 by her enemies, though what " Cica 77 meant no one could 
 tell exactly. 
 
52 A SENATOR ENTANGLED. 
 
 La Cicu did her part marvelously well. She did not 
 speak the best English in the world, yet that could not 
 account for all the singular remarks which she made. Still 
 less could it account for the tender interest of her manner. 
 She had remarkably bright eyes. Why wandered those 
 eyes so often to his, and why did they beam with such de- 
 votion — beaming for a moment only to fall in sweet, inno- 
 cent confusion ? La Cica had the most fascinating man- 
 ners, yet they were often perplexing to the Senator's soul. 
 The little offices which she required of him did not appear, 
 in his matter-of-fact eyes, as strictly prudent. The innate 
 gallantry which he possessed carried him bravely along 
 through much that was bewildering to his nerves. Yet he 
 was often in danger of running away in terror. 
 
 " The Countess," he thought, u is a most remarkable line 
 woman ; but she does use her eyes uncommon, and I do 
 wish she wouldn't be quite so demonstrative." 
 
 The good Senator had never before encountered a 
 thorough woman of the world, and was as ignorant as a 
 child of the innumerable little harmless arts by which the 
 power of such a one is extended and secured. At last ttra 
 Senator came to this conclusion — La Cica was desperately 
 in love with him. 
 
 She appeared to be a widow. At least, she had no hus- 
 band that he had ever seen. Now if the poor Cica was 
 hopelessly in love, it must be stopped at once. But let it 
 be done delicately, not abruptly. 
 
 One evening they walked on the balcony of La Clc %'s 
 noble residence. She was sentimental, devoted, charming. 
 
 The conversation of a fascinating woman does not sound 
 so well when reported as it is when uttered. Her power is 
 in her tone, her glance, her manner. Who can catch the 
 evanescent beauty of her expression or the deep tender- 
 ness of her well -modulated voice % who indeed ? 
 
 " Does ze scene please you, my Senator P 
 
 " Very much indeed." 
 
A SENATOR ENTANGLED. 53 
 
 " Youar countrymen haf tol me zey would like to stay 
 here alio way." 
 
 " It is a beautiful place." 
 
 " Did you aiver see any thin' moaire loafely ?" And the 
 Countess looked full in his face. 
 
 " Never," said the Senator, earnestly. The next instant 
 he blushed. He nad been betrayed into a compliment. 
 
 The Couutess sighed. 
 
 " Helas ! my Senator, that it is not pairmitted to moar- 
 tals to 'sociate as zey would laike." 
 
 " l Your Senator,' " thought the gentleman thus ad- 
 dressed ; "how fond, how tender — poor thing ! poor thing V* 
 
 u I wish that Italy was nearer to the States," said he. 
 
 " How I adamiar youar style of mind, so diflferente from 
 ze Italiana ! You are so strong — so nobile. Yet would I 
 laike to see moar of ze poetic in you." 
 
 " I always loved poetry, marm," said the Senator, des- 
 perately. 
 
 " Ah — good— nais— eccelente. I am plees at zat," cried 
 the Countess, with much animation. " You would loafe it 
 moar eef you knew Italiano. Your langua ees not suffi- 
 ciente musicale for poatry." 
 
 " It is not so soft a language as the Italian." 
 
 "Ah — no— not so soft. Very well. And what theenka 
 you of ze Italiano V* 
 
 " The sweetest language I ever heard in all my born 
 days." 
 
 " Ah, now — you hev not heard much of ze Italiano, my 
 Senator." 
 
 "I have heard you speak often," said the Senator, 
 naively. 
 
 " Ah, you compliment ! I sot you was aboove fiattera." 
 
 And the Countess playfully tapped his arm with her lit- 
 tle fan. 
 
 " What Ingelis poet do you loafe best ?" 
 
 " Poet ! English poet ?" said the Senator, with some 
 
54 A SENATOR ENTANGLED. 
 
 surprise. " Oh— why, marm, I think Watts is about the 
 best of the lot !" 
 
 " Watt ? Was he a poet ? I did not know zat. He 
 who invented ze stim-injaine ? And yet, if he was a poet, 
 it is naturale zat you loafe him best." 
 
 " Steam-engine 1 Oh, no ! This one was a minister." 
 
 lt A meeneestaire ? Ah ! an abbe? I know him not. 
 Yet I haf read mos of all youar poets." 
 
 " He made up hymns, marm, and psalms — for instance, 
 ' Watts's Divine Hymns and Spiritual Songs.' " 
 
 " Songs f Spirituelle f Ah, I mus at once procuaire ze 
 works of Watt, which was favorit poet of my Senator." 
 
 " A lady of such intelligence as yon would like the poet 
 Watts," said the Senator, firmly. " He is the best known 
 by far of all our poets." 
 
 " What ! better zan Sakespeare, Milton, Bairon ? You 
 much surprass me." 
 
 "Better known and better loved than the whole lot. 
 Why, his poetry is known by heart through all England 
 and America." 
 
 " Merciful Heaven ! what you tell me ? ees eet possbl ? 
 An' yet he is not known here efen by name. It would please 
 me mooch, my Senator, to haire you make one quotatione. 
 Know you Watt 1 Tell to me some words of his which I 
 may remembaire." 
 
 " I have a shocking bad memory." 
 
 " Bad memora ! Oh, but you remember something zis 
 mos' beaut'ful charm nait — you haf a nobile soul— you mus' 
 be affecta by beauty — by ze ideal. Make for a me one 
 quotatione." 
 
 And she rested her little hand on the Senator's arm, and 
 looked up imploringly in his face. 
 
 The Senator looked foolish. He felt even more so. Here 
 was a beautiful woman, by act and look showing a tender 
 interest in him. Perplexing — but very flattering, after all. 
 So he replied— 
 
A SENATOR ENTANGLED. 55 
 
 " You will not let roe refuse you anything." 
 
 " Aha ! you are very willing to refuse. It is difficulty for 
 me to excitaire youar regards. You are filled with the 
 grands ideas. But come — will you spik for me some from 
 your favorit Watt 1» 
 
 " Well, if you wish it so much," said the Senator, kindly ; 
 and he hesitated. 
 
 "Ah! I do wis it so much !" 
 
 ' Ehem !" 
 
 " Begin," said the Countess. " Behold me. I listen. I 
 hear every sin, and will rememhaire it forava." 
 
 The only thing that the Senator could think of was a verse 
 which had been running in his head for the last few days, 
 its measured rhythm keeping time with every occupation : 
 
 " ' My willing soul would stay — \ " 
 
 '* Stop one moment/ 7 said the Countess. " I weesh to 
 learn it from you f and she looked fondly and tenderly up, 
 but instantly dropped her eyes. 
 
 " * Ma willina sol wooda sta— ' " 
 
 " ' In such a frame as this/ " prompted the Senator. 
 
 " ' Een socha framas zees.' Wait — l Ma willina sol wooda 
 sta in soocha frama zees.' Ah, appropriat ! but could I 
 hope zat you were true to zose lines, my Senator ? Well V 1 
 
 u l And sit and sing herself away/ "said the Senator, in 
 a faltering voice, and breaking out into a cold perspiration 
 for fear of committing himself by such uncommonly strong 
 language. 
 
 " ' Ansit ansin hassaf awai/ " repeated the Countess, her 
 face lighting up with a sweetly conscious expression. 
 
 The Senator paused. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " I— ehem ! I forget." 
 
 " Forget ? Impossible !" 
 
 " I do, really." 
 
 "Ah, now! Forget! I see by youar face— you desave. 
 Say on." 
 
56 A SENATOR ENTANGLED. 
 
 The Countess again gently touched his arm with both of 
 her little hands, and held it as though she would clasp it. 
 
 " Have you fear i Ah, cruel !" 
 
 The Senator turned pale, but, finding refusal impossible, 
 boldly finished : 
 
 " l To everlasting bliss ' — there !" 
 
 "'To affarlastin' blees thar.' Stop. I repeat it all: 
 * Ma willina sol wooda sta in socha framas zees, ansit 
 ansin hassai* awai to affarlastin blees thar.' Am I 
 right !» 
 
 *' Yes," said the Senator, meekly. 
 
 " I knew you war a poetic sola," said the Countess, con- 
 fidingly. "You are honesto— true— you cannot desave. 
 When you spik I can beliv you. Ah, my Senator ! an you 
 can spik zis poetry ! — at soch a taime ! I nefare knew be- 
 foare zat you were so impassione ! — an' you air so artaful ! 
 You breeng ze confersazione to beauty — to poatry — to ze 
 poet Watt— so you may spik verses mos impassione ! Ah ! 
 what do you mean ? Santissima madre ! how I wish you 
 spik Italiano." 
 
 The Countess drew nearer to him, but her approach only 
 deepened his perplexity. 
 
 " How that poor thing does love me !" sighed the Sena- 
 tor. » ' Law bless it ! she can't help it — can't help it nohow. 
 She is a goner ; and what can I do ? I'll have to leave 
 Florence." 
 
 The Countess was standing close beside him in a tender 
 mood waiting for him to break the silence. How could 
 he f He had been uttering words which sounded to her 
 like love ; and she — " a widow ! a widow ! a widow ! wretch- 
 ed man that I am !" 
 
 There was a pause. The longer it lasted the more awk- 
 ward the Senator felt. What upon earth was he to do or 
 say ¥ What business had he to go and quote poetry to 
 widows % What an old fool he must be ! But the Countess 
 was very far from feeling awkward. 
 
CHRISTMAS-NIGHT IN THE QUARTERS. 57 
 
 attitude she looked up, her face expressing the tenderest 
 solicitude. 
 
 " What ails my Senator ?" 
 
 " Why, the fact is, marui — I feel sad — at leaving Flor- 
 ence. I must go shortly. My wife has written summon- 
 ing me home. The children are down with the measles." 
 
 base fabrication ! false Senator ! There wasn't a 
 word of truth in that remark. You spoke so because you 
 wished La Cica to know that you had a wife and family. 
 Yet it was very badly done. 
 
 La Cica changed neither her attitude nor her expres- 
 sion. Evidently the existence of his wife and the melan- 
 choly situation of his unfortunate children awakened no 
 sympathy. 
 
 " But, my Senator, did you not say you wooda seeng 
 yoursellef away to affarlasteen belees V 
 
 '■ Oh, inarm, it was a quotation — only a quotation." 
 
 But at this critical juncture the conversation was broken 
 up by the arrival of a number of ladies and gentlemen. 
 
 CHRISTMAS-NIGHT IN THE QUARTERS. 
 
 EBWUN RUSSELL. 
 
 From Seribner's Monthly. 
 Abridged for Public Reading. 
 ■When merry Christmas-day is done, 
 And Christmas-night is just begun ; 
 "While clouds in slow procession drift 
 To wish the moon-man " Christmas gift," 
 Yet linger overhead, to know 
 "What causes all the stir below ; 
 At Uncle Johnny Booker's ball 
 The darkeys hold high carnival. 
 
 Original in act and thought, 
 Because unlearned and untaught, 
 
58 CHEISTMAS-NIGHT IN THE QUARTERS. 
 
 Observe thein at their Christmas party. 
 How unrestrained their mirth— how hearty 1 
 How many things they say and do, 
 That never would occur to you ! 
 See Brudder Brown — whose saving grace 
 "Would sanctify a quarter-race— 
 Out on the crowded floor advance, 
 To "beg a blessin' on dis dance/' 
 
 Oh, Mahsr ! let dis gath'rin' fin' a blessin' in yo sight ! 
 
 Don't jedge us hard for what we does— you know it's Chrismus 
 
 nig lit ; 
 An' all de balunce ob de yeah we does as right's we kin— 
 Ef dancin's wrong — oh, Mahsr ! let de time excuse de sin ! 
 
 "We labors in de vineya'd— workin' hard, an' workin' true — 
 Now, shorely you won't notus, ef we eats a grape or two, 
 An' takes a leetle holiday — a leetle restin'-spell— 
 Bekase, nex' week, we'll start in fresh, an' labor twicet as well. 
 
 Eemember, Mahsr — min' dis, now — de sinfulness ob sin 
 Is 'pendin' 'pon de sperrit what we goes an' does it in : 
 An' in a righchis frame ob min' we's gwine to dance an' sing; 
 A-feelin' like King David, when he cut de pigeon- wing. 
 
 It seems to me — indeed it do — I mebbe mout be wrong- 
 That people raly ought to dance when Chrismus comes along; 
 Des dance bekase dey's happy — like de birds hops in de trees : 
 De pine-top fiddle soundin' to de bo win' ob de breeze. 
 
 "We has no ark to dance afore, like Isrul's prophet king ; 
 "We has no harp to soun de chords, to holp us out to sing ; 
 But 'cordin' to de gif s we has we does de bes' we knows — 
 An' folks don't 'spise de vi'let-flow'r bekase it ain't de rose. 
 
 You bless us, please sah, eben ef we's doin' wrong to-night ; 
 Kase den we'll need de blessin' more 'n ef we's doin' right ; 
 An' let de blessin' stay wid us, untell we comes to die, 
 An' goes to keep our Chrismus wid dem sheriffs in de sky ! 
 
 Yes, tell dem preshis anjuls we's a-gwine to jine 'em soon : 
 Our voices we's a-trainin' for to sing de glory tune ; 
 "We's ready when you wants us, an' it ain't no matter when — 
 Oh, Mahsr ! call yo' chillen soon, an' take 'em home ! Amen. 
 
CHRISTMAS-NIGHT IN THE QUARTERS. 59 
 
 The rev'rend man is scarcely tnrough, 
 When all the noise begins anew, 
 And with such force assaults the ears, 
 That through the din one hardly hears 
 Old Piddling Josey "sound his A"— 
 Correct the pitch — begin to play- 
 Stop, satisfied — then, with the bow, 
 Eap out the signal dancers know : 
 
 Git yo' pardners, fus kwattilion ! 
 
 Stomp yo' feet, an' raise 'em high ; 
 Tune is : " Oh ! dat water-million ! 
 
 Gwine to git to home bime-bye." 
 S'lute yo' pardners ! scrape perlitely — 
 
 Don't be bumpin' gin de res' — 
 Balance all ! now, step out rightly ; 
 
 Alluz dance yo' lebbel bes'. 
 Fo'wa'dfoah ! — whoop up, niggers ! 
 
 Back ag'in ! — don't be so slow — 
 Swing cornahs ! — min' de riggers : 
 
 "When I holler, den yo' go. 
 Top ladies cross ooer ! 
 
 Hoi' on, till I takes a dram — 
 Gemmcn solo ! — yes, Fs sober — 
 
 Kaint say how de fiddle am — 
 Sands around ! — hoi' up yo' faces, 
 
 Don't be lookin' at yo' feet ! 
 Swing yo' pardners to yo' places ! 
 
 Dat's de way — dat's hard to beat. 
 Sides fo'w'd ! — when you's ready- 
 Make a bow as low's you kin ! 
 Swing acrost wid opposite lady ! 
 
 Now we'll let you swap ag'in : 
 Ladies change ! — shet up dat talkin' ; 
 
 Do yo' talkin arter while— 
 Right an' lef ! — don't want no walkin' — 
 
 Make yo' steps an' show yo' style ! 
 ***** 
 
 So wears the night : and wears so fast, 
 All wonder when they find it passed, 
 
60 CHRISTMAS-NIGHT IN THE QUARTERS. 
 
 And hear the signal sound, to go, 
 From what few cocks are left to crow. 
 Then ono and all you hear them shout : 
 " Hi ! Booker ! fotch de hanjo out, 
 An' gib us one song 'fore we goes- 
 One oh de berry bes' you knows !" 
 Responding to the welcome call, 
 He takes the banjo from the wall, 
 And tunes the strings with skill and care — 
 Then strikes them with a master's air ; 
 And tells in melody and rhyme, 
 This legend of the olden time : 
 
 Go 'way fiddle '.—folks is tired o' hearin' you a-squarkin' 
 Keep silence for yo' betters — don't you heah de banjo talkin' ¥ 
 About de 'possum's tail she's gwine to lecter— ladies, listen !— 
 About de ha'r what isn't dar, an' why de bar is missin' : 
 
 " Dafs gwine to be a oberfiow," said Noah, look in' solemn — 
 For Noah tuk the " Herald," an' he read de nbber column — 
 An' so he sot his hands to work a-cl'arin' timber-patches, 
 An' 'lowed he's gwine to build a boat to beat de steamah 
 " Natchez." 
 
 01' Noah kep' a-nailin', an' a-chippin', an' a-sawin' ; 
 An' all the wicked neighbors kep' a-laughin' an' a-pshawin' ; 
 But Noah didn't min' 'em— knowin' whut wuz gwine to happen: 
 An' forty days an' forty nights de rain it kep' a-drappin'. 
 
 Now, Noah had done cotched a lot ob ebry sort o' beas'es — 
 
 Ob all de shows a-trabbelin', it beat 'em all to pieces ! 
 
 He had a Morgan colt, an' sebral head o' Jarsey cattle— 
 
 An' druv 'em 'board de Ark as soon's he heered de thunder rattle. 
 
 Den sech anoder fall ob rain ! — it come so awful hebby, 
 
 De ribber riz immejitly, an' busted troo de lebbee ; 
 
 De people all wuz drownded out — 'cep' Noah an' de critters, 
 
 An' men he'd hired to work de boat — an' one to mix de bitters. 
 
 De Ark she kep' a-nailin', an' a-sailin', an' a-sailin' ; 
 
 De lion got his dander up, an' like to bruk de pailin' — 
 
 De sarpints hissed— de painters yelled — tell, what wid all de fussin' 
 
 You c'u'dn't hardly heah de mate a-bossin' 'roun' an' cussin'. 
 
CHRISTMAS-NIGHT IN THE QUARTERS. 61 
 
 Now, Ham, de only nigger whut wuz ruimin' on de packet, 
 Got lonesome in de barber-shop, an' c'u'dn't stan' de racket ; 
 An' so, for to amuse he-se'f, he steamed some wood an' bent it, 
 An' soon he had a banjo made— de fust dat wuz invented. 
 
 He wet de ledder, stretched it on ; made bridge, an' screws, an' 
 
 apron; 
 An' fitted in a proper neck — 'twuz berry long an' tap'rin' ; 
 He tnk some tin, an' twisted him a thimble for to ring it ; 
 An ' den de mighty question riz : how wuz he gwine to string it ? 
 
 De 'possum had as fine a tail as dis dat Fs a-singin' ; 
 De ha'rs so long, an' thick, an' strong — des fit for banjo-stringin' ; 
 Dat nigger shaved 'em off as short as wash-day dinner graces ; 
 An' sorted ob 'em by de size, frum little E's to basses. 
 
 He strung her, tuned her, t struck a jig— 'twuz " Nebber min' de 
 
 wedder " — 
 She soun' like forty-lebben bands a-playin' all togedder ; 
 Some went to pattin' ; some to dancin' ; £Toan called de figgers— 
 An' Ham he sot an' knocked de tune, de happiest ob niggers ! 
 
 Now, sence dat time — it's mighty strange — dere's not de slightes' 
 
 showin' 
 Ob any ha'r at all upon de 'possum's tail a-growin' ; 
 An' curi's, too — dat nigger's ways : his people nebber los' 'em — 
 For whar you finds de nigger — dar's de banjo an' de 'possum! 
 
 The night is spent ; and r.s the day 
 Throws up the first faint flash of gray, 
 The guests pursue their homeward way ; 
 And through the field beyond the gin, 
 Just as the stars are going in, 
 See Santa Claus departing— grieving — 
 His own dear Land of Cotton leaving. 
 His work is done — he fain would rest, 
 "Where people know and love him best — 
 He pauses — listens — looks about — 
 But go he must : his pass is out ; 
 So, coughing down the rising tears, 
 He climbs the fence and disappears 
 
A LOVE SONG. 
 
 And thus observes a colored youth — 
 (The common sentiment, in sooth) : 
 " Oh! what a blessing 'tw'u'd ha' been 
 Ef Santy had been born a twin ! 
 We'd hab two Christmuses a yeah — 
 Or p'r'aps one brudder'd settle heah!" 
 
 A LOYE SONG. 
 
 Och, Nora, so swate, an' so purty, the darlint ! 
 
 Her cheeks are like pinks shinin' out av the snow ; 
 An' her chin — och, my heart, the dimple that's in it !— 
 
 An' eyes that say yis when her lips litter no. 
 
 Her form it is iligant, trim like, an' slinder ; 
 
 An' look at the flowers that are harkin ; all 'round 
 To hear is she comin', wid kisses so tinder 
 
 To give her white fut as it touches the ground ! 
 
 An' oft do I mind the fust hour of our meetin' — 
 
 The baste of a dog, he had frighted her so ; 
 She sprang to my arms, her poor heart wildly beathV 
 
 Wid fear ; but i' faith, not a bit did I know 
 
 "What it was ailin' mine— sich a stir an' commotion 
 Inside of my chist, where her purty head lay, 
 
 While my breath came in whirls, like the breath of the ocean, 
 An' tripped up the words I was wantin' to say. 
 
 An' here am I waitin' an hour in the gloamin 
 Wid cruel lone spells sinkin' down in my heart ; 
 
 Hist ! that is hersilf now, so craftily comin' 
 To tase a poor lad wid her guile an' her art. 
 
 But ye'll not git away, sure, my beautiful daisy ; 
 
 Kest here in the arms that are lovin' an' strong. 
 Kape still now, mavourneen, ye'd betther be aisy — 
 
 Some other big dog might be com in' along. 
 
THE STEAMBOAT RACE. 
 
 THE STEAMBOAT RACE. 
 
 MARK TWAIN. 
 
 From the " Gilded Age." 
 
 Presently the pilot said : 
 
 " By George, yonder comes the Amaranth !" 
 
 A spark appeared close to the water, several miles down 
 the river. The pilot took his glass and looked at it steadi- 
 ly for a moment, and said, chiefly to himself: " It can't 
 be the Blue Wing j she couldn't pick us up this way. It's 
 the Amaranth, sure." 
 
 He bent over a speaking-tube and said : 
 
 u Who's on watch down there f 
 
 A hollow, inhuman voice mumbled up through the tube 
 in answer : 
 
 " I am — second engineer." 
 
 " Good ! you want to stir your stumps, now, Harry ; the 
 Amaranth's just turned the point, and she's just a humping 
 herself, too !" 
 
 The pilot took hold of a rope that stretched out forward, 
 jerked it twice, and two mellow strokes of the big bell re- 
 sponded. 
 
 A voice on deck shouted : 
 
 u Stand by, down there, with that larboard lead !" 
 
 " No, I don't want the lead," said the pilot ;"I want you. 
 Roust out the old man — tell him the Amaranth's coming. 
 And go and call Jim— tell Kim." 
 
 " Aye ! aye ! sir." 
 
 The " old man " was the captain. He is always called 
 so on steamboats and ships. " Jim " was the other pilot. 
 Within two minutes both these men were flying up the 
 pilot-house stairway, three steps at a jump. Jim was in 
 his shirt sleeves, with his coat and vest on his arm. He 
 said : 
 
 " I was just turning in. Where's the glass V } 
 
 He took it and looked : 
 
G4 THE STEAMBOAT RACE. 
 
 " Don't appear to be any night hawk on the jack's staff; 
 it's the Amaranth, dead sure ! M 
 
 The captain took a good long look and only said : 
 
 " Damnation !" 
 
 George Davis, the pilot on watch, shouted to the night 
 watchman on deck : 
 
 " How's she loaded ?" 
 
 " Two inches by the head, sir." 
 
 " 'Taint enough !" 
 
 The captain shouted, now : 
 
 " Call the mate. Tell him to call all hands and get a lot 
 of that sugar forrard— put her ten inches by the head. 
 Lively, now !" 
 
 " Aye ! aye ! sir !" 
 
 A riot of shouting and trampling floated up from below, 
 presently, and the uneasy steering of the boat soon showed 
 that she was getting " down by the head." 
 
 The three men in the pilot-house began to talk in short, 
 sharp sentences, low and earnestly. As their excitement 
 rose, their voices went down. As fast as one of them put 
 down the spy-glass, another took it up — but always with 
 a studied air of calmness. Each time the verdict was : 
 
 " She's a-gaining!" 
 
 The captain spoke through the tube : 
 
 " What steam are you carrying V 
 
 " A hundred and forty-two, sir ! but she's getting hotter 
 and hotter all the time." 
 
 The boat was straining, and groaning and quivering, 
 like a monster in pain. Both pilots were at work, now, one 
 on each side of the wheel, with their coats and vests oft', 
 their bosoms and collars wide open, and the perspiration 
 flowing down their faces. They were holding the boat so 
 close to the shore that the willows swept the guards al- 
 most from stem to stern. 
 
 " Stand by !" whispered George. 
 
 u All ready ! " said Jim under his breath. 
 
THE STEAMBOAT RACE. 05 
 
 " Let her come !" 
 
 The boat sprang away from the bank like a deer, and 
 darted in a long diagonal toward the other shore. She 
 closed in again and thrashed her fierce way along the wil- 
 lows as before. The captain put down the glass : 
 
 " Lord, how she walks up on us ! I do hate to be beat !" 
 
 The Amaranth was within three hundred yards of the 
 Boreas, and still gaining. The " old man" spoke through 
 the tube : 
 
 " What is she carrying now f 
 
 " A hundred and sixty-five, sir." 
 
 " How's your wood ?" 
 
 " Pine all out, cypress half gone— eating up cotton wood 
 like pie !" 
 
 " Break into that rosin on the main deck ! pile it in — the 
 boat can pay for it I" 
 
 Soon the boat was plunging and quivering and scream- 
 ing more madly than ever. But the Amaranth's head was 
 almost abreast the Boreas 7 stern. 
 
 " How's your steam now, Harry ?" 
 
 " Hundred and eighty-two, sir." 
 
 " Break up the casks of bacon in the forrard hold ! Pile 
 it in! Levy on that turpentine in the fantail— drench 
 every stick of wood with it !" 
 
 The boat was a moving earthquake by this time. 
 
 " How is she now W 
 
 11 A hundred and ninety-six and still a-swelling ! — water 
 below the middle gauge' cocks ! — carrying every pound she 
 can stand ! — nigger roosting on the safety-valve !" 
 
 " Good ! How's your draught V 
 
 " Bully ! Every time a nigger heaves a stick of wood in- 
 to the furnace he goes out the chimney with it !" 
 
 The Amaranth drew steadily up till her jack staff breast- 
 ed the Boreas' wheel house— climbed along inch by inch 
 till her chimneys breasted it. 
 
 u Jim," said George, looking straight ahead, watching 
 
66 THE STEAMBOAT KACE. 
 
 the slightest yawing of the boat and promptly meeting it 
 with the wheel, " how'll it do to try Murderer's Chute P 
 
 " Well, it's— if s taking chances. How was the cotton 
 wood stump on the false point below Boardman's Island 
 this morning V } 
 
 " Water just touching the roots." 
 
 " Well, it's pretty close work. That gives six feet scant 
 in the head of Murderer's Chute. We can just barely rub 
 through if we hit it exactly right. But it's worth trying. 
 She don't dare tackle it," meaning the Amaranth. 
 
 In another instant the Boreas plunged into what seemed 
 a crooked creek, and the lights of the Amaranth were shut 
 out in a moment. Not a whisper was uttered, now, but 
 the three men stared ahead into the shadows, and two of 
 them spun the wheel back and forth with anxious watch- 
 fulness, while the steamer tore along. The Chute seemed 
 to come to an end every fifty yards, but always opened out 
 in time. Now the head of it was at hand. George tapped 
 the big bell three times ; two leadsmen sprang to their 
 posts, and in a moment their weird cries rose on the night 
 air and were caught up and repeated by two men on the 
 upper deck : 
 
 " No-o bottom .!» 
 
 " Deep four !" 
 
 " Half three !» 
 
 " Quarter three !" 
 
 " Mark under water three !" 
 
 " Half twain !" 
 
 " Quarter twain ! — " 
 
 Davis pulled a couple of ropes, there was a jingling of 
 small bells far below, the boat's speed slackened, and the 
 pent steam began to whistle and the gauge cocks to 
 scream : 
 
 " By the mark twain !" 
 
 " Quarter her— er— less twain !" 
 
 " Eight and a half !" 
 
THE SWELL. 67 
 
 "Eight feet!" 
 
 " Seven an' a— half !— " 
 
 Another jingling of little bells and the wheels ceased 
 turning altogether. The whistling of the steam was some- 
 thing frightful now ; it almost drowned all other noises. 
 
 " Stand by to meet her !" 
 
 George had the wheel hard down and was standing on 
 a spoke. 
 
 " All ready !" 
 
 The boat hesitated, seemed to hold her breath— as did 
 the captain and pilots— and then she began to fall away to 
 starboard, and every eye lighted : 
 
 11 Now then! meet her! meet her! snatch her!" The wheel 
 flew to port so fast that the spokes blended into a spider 
 web, the swing of the boat subsided ; she steadied herself. 
 
 " Seven feet !" 
 
 "Sev — six and a half! 1 * 
 
 " Six feet ! Six f " 
 
 Bang ! She hit the bottom ! George shouted through, 
 the tube : 
 
 " Spread her wide open ! Whale it at her !" 
 
 The escape pipes belched snowy pillars of steam aloft, the 
 boat groaned and surged and trembled, and slid over into — 
 
 " Mark twain !" 
 
 " Quarter her !" 
 
 Tap ! tap ! tap ! (to signify "lay in the leads.") 
 
 And away she went, flying up the willow shore with the 
 whole silver sea of the Mississippi stretching abroad on 
 every hand, and, no Amaranth in sight. 
 
 THE SWELL. 
 
 GEORCB "W. KTLE. 
 
 I say ! I wonder why fellahs ever wide in horse-cars ? 
 I've been twying all day to think why fellahs ever do it, 
 weally ! I know some fellahs that are in business, down 
 
08 THE SWELL. 
 
 town, you know — C. B. Jones, cotton dealer; Smith Bro- 
 thers, woolen goods; Bwown & Company, stock bwokers 
 and that sort of thing, you know— who say they,do it every 
 day. If I was to do it every day, my funeral would come 
 off in about a week. Ton my soul, it would. I wode in a 
 horse-car one day. Did it for a lark. Made a bet I would 
 wide in a horse-car, 'pon my soul, I did. So I went out on 
 the pavement before the club-house and called one. I said, 
 tl Horse-car! horse-car!" but not one of 'em stopped, 
 weally ! Then I saw that fellahs wun after them— played 
 tag with them, you know, as the dweadful little girls do 
 when school is coming out. And sometimes they caught 
 the cars — ah — and sometimes they did not. So I wun after 
 one, I did weally, and I caught it. I was out of breath, 
 you know, and a fellah on the platform— a conductor 
 fellah — poked me in the back and said, " Come ! move up ! 
 make room for this lady !" Ah — by Jove he did, you 
 know ! I looked for the lady so {eye-glass business), but 
 I could see no lady, and I said so. There was a female 
 person behind me, with large market-basket, cwowded 
 with ah— vegetables and such dweadful stuff— and another 
 person with a bundle and another with a baby, you know. 
 The person with the basket prodded me in the back with 
 it, and I said to the conductor fellah, said I, " Where shall 
 I sit down % I— ah— I don't see any seat, you know." 
 {Eye-glass business.) " The seats seem to be occupied by 
 persons, conductor," said I. " Where shall I sit V 
 
 He was wude, very wude, indeed, and he said, " You 
 can sit on your thumb if you have a mind to." And when 
 I wemonstrated with him upon the impwopwiety of telling 
 a gentleman to sit on his thumb, he told me to go to 
 thunder. " Go to thunder !" he did, indeed. After a while 
 one of the persons got out and I sat down ; it was vewy 
 disagweeable ! Opposite me there were several persons 
 belonging to the labowing classes, with what I pwesume 
 to be lime on their boots ; and tin kettles which they car- 
 
THE SWELL. 69 
 
 ried for some mysterious purpose in their hands. There 
 was a person with a large basket, and a colored person. 
 Next to me there sat a fellah that had been eating onions ! 
 'Twas vewy offensive! I couldn't stand it! No fellah 
 could, you know. I had heard that if any one in a car was 
 annoyed by a fellah-passenger he should weport it to the 
 conductor. So I said, " Conductor ! put this person out of 
 tne car ! he aunoys me vewy much. He has been eating 
 onions." But the conductor fellah only laughed. He did, 
 indeed ! And the fellah that had been eating onions said, 
 " Hang yer iinpidence, what do ye mean by that ?" " It's 
 extwemely disagweeable, you know, to sit near one who 
 has been eating onions," said I. " I think you ought to 
 resign, get out, you know." And then, though I'm sure I 
 spoke in the most respectfully manner, he put his fist 
 under my nose and remarked, u You'll eat that, hang you, 
 in a minute!" he did indeed. And a fellah opposite said, 
 " Put a head on him, Jim !" I suppose from his tone that 
 it was some colloquial expwession of the lower orders, re- 
 ferring to a personal attack. It was vewy disagweeable, 
 indeed. I don't see why any fellah ever rides in the horse- 
 cars. But I didn't rant a ror, you knor. A fellah is 
 apt to get a black eye, and a black eye spoils one's ap- 
 pearance, don't you think? So I said, " Beg pardon, I'm 
 Bnre." The fellah said, " Oh, hang you !" he did, indeed. 
 He was a very ill-bred person. And all this time the car 
 kept stopping and more persons of the lower orders kept 
 getting on. A very dweadful woman with a vewy dwead- 
 ftil baby stood right before me, intercepting my view of 
 the street; and the baby had an orange in one hand 
 and some candy in the other. And I ras wondering rhy 
 persons of the lorer classes were allowed to have such 
 dirty babies, and why Bergh or some one didn't interfere, 
 you know, when, before I knew what she was doing, that 
 dreadful woman sat that dweadful baby wight down on 
 mv 1,-w ! She did, indeed. And it took hold of my shirt 
 
70 THE LITTLE STOW- A WAY. 
 
 bosom with one of its sticky hands and took my eye-glass 
 away with the other, and upon my honor, I'm quite lost 
 without my eye-glass. " You'll have to kape him till I 
 find me money," said the woman. " Weally !" said I, 
 ,( I'm not a nursery-maid ma'am." Then the people about 
 me laughed, they did, indeed. I could not endure it. I 
 jumped up and dwopped the baby in the straw. " Stop 
 the car, conductor," said I, " stop the car." What do yoa 
 suppose he said? " Hurry up now, be lively, be lively, 
 don't keep me waiting all day!" And I was about to 
 wemonstrate with him upon the impwopwiety of speaking 
 so to a gentleman, when he pushed me off the car. That 
 was the only time I ever wode in a horse-car. I wonder 
 why fellahs ever do wide in horse-cars ? I should think 
 they would pwefer cabs, you know. 
 
 THE LITTLE STOW-AWAY. 
 
 Abridged for Public Beading. 
 
 * * * u would ye like to hear about it V> 
 
 I eagerly assent ; and the narrator, knocking the ashes 
 out of his pipe, folds his brawny arms upon the top of the 
 rail, and commences as follows : 
 
 II 'Bout three years ago, afore I got this berth as I'm in 
 now, I was second engineer aboard a Liverpool steamer 
 bound for New York. There'd been a lot of extra cargo 
 sent down just at the last minute, and we'd had no end of 
 a job stowin' it away, and that ran us late o' startin' ; so 
 that, altogether, you may think, the cap'n warn't in the 
 sweetest temper in the world, nor the mate neither ; as for 
 the chief-engineer, he was an easy-goin' sort of a chap, as 
 nothing on earth could put out. But on the mornin' of the 
 third day out from Liverpool, he cum down to me in a pre- 
 
THE LITTLE STOW-AWAY. 71 
 
 cious hurry, lookin' as if somethin' had put him out pretty 
 considerably. 
 
 " ' Tom,' says he, ' what d'ye thick ? Blest if we ain't 
 found a stow-away.' (That's the name, you know, sir, as 
 we gives to chaps as hide theirselves aboard outward- 
 bound vessels, and gets carried out unbeknown to every- 
 body.) 
 
 " ' The dickens you have P says I. ' Who is he, and 
 where did you find him V 
 
 " ' Well, we found him stowed away among the casks 
 for'ard ; and ten to one we'd never ha' twigged him at all, 
 if the skipper's dog hadn't sniffed him out and begun bark- 
 in'. Such a nice little mite as he is, too ! I could ha' 
 most put him in my baccy-pouch, poor little beggar ! but 
 he look to be a good-plucked un for all that.' 
 
 " I didn't wait to hear no more, but up on deck like a 
 sky-rocket : and there I did see a sight, and no mistake. 
 Every man -Jack o' the crew, and what few passengers we 
 had aboard,' was all in a ring on the fo'c'stle, and in the 
 middle was the fust-mate, lookin' as black as thunder. 
 Right in front of him, looking a reg'lar mite among them 
 big fellers, was a little bit o' a lad not ten year old — rag- 
 ged as a scare-crow, but with bright, curly hair, and a 
 bonnie little face o' his own, it it hadn't been so woful thin 
 and pale. But, bless your soul ! to see the way that little 
 chap held his head up, and looked about him, you'd ha' 
 thought the whole ship belonged to him. The mate was 
 a great hulkin' black-bearded feller, with a look that 'ud 
 ha' frightened a horse, and a voice fit to make one jump 
 through a key-hole j but the young un warn't a bit afeard 
 — he stood straight up, and looked him full in the face 
 with them bright, clear eyes o' his'n, for all the world as if 
 he was Prince Halferd himself. Folk did say arterwards " 
 — lowering his voice to a whisper — " as how he corned o> 
 better blood nor what he seemed ; and, for my part, I'm 
 rayther o' that way o' thinkin' myself ; for I never yet see'd 
 
72 THE LITTLE STOW- AWAY. 
 
 a common street Harab— as they calls them now — carry it 
 oft' like him. You might ha' heered a pin drop, as the 
 mate spoke. 
 
 " ' Well, you young whelp/ says he, in his grimmest 
 voice, ' what's brought you here V 
 
 '■ ' It was my step-father as done it/ says the boy, in a 
 weak little voice, but as steady as could be. ' Father's 
 dead, and mother's married again, and my new father says 
 as how he won't have no brats about eatin' up his wages ; 
 and he stowed me away when nobody warn't looking and 
 guv me some grub to keep me goin' for a day or two till I 
 got to sea. He says I'm to go to Annt Jane, at Halifax ; 
 and here's her address.' And with that, he slips his hand 
 into the breast of his shirt, and out with a scrap o' paper, 
 awful dirty and crumpled up, but with the address on it, 
 right enough. 
 
 "We all believed every word on't, even without the 
 paper; for his look, and his voice, and the way he spoke, 
 was enough to show that there warn't a ha'porth o' lyin' 
 in his whole skin. But the mate didn't seem to swallow 
 the yarn at all ; he only shrugged his shoulders with a kind 
 o' grin, as much as to say, ' I'm too old a bird to be caught 
 by that kind o' chaff/ and then he says to him, 'Look 
 here, my lad, that's all very fine, but it won't do here — 
 some o' these men o' mine are in the secret, and I mean to 
 have it out of 'em. Now, you just point out the man as 
 stowed you away and fed you, this very minute; if you 
 doan't, it'll be the worse for%pu !' 
 
 " The boy looked up in his bright, fearless way (it did my 
 heart good to look at him, the brave little chap !) and says, 
 quietly, ' I've told you the truth; I ain't got no more to say.' 
 
 " The mate says nothiu', but looks at him for a miuute 
 as if he'd see clean through him ; and then he faced round 
 to the men, lookin' blacker than ever. ' Eeeve a rope to 
 the yard!' he sings out, loud enough to raise the dead; 
 1 smart now !' 
 
THE LITTLE STOW- AWAY. 73 
 
 " The men all looked at each other, as much as to say : 
 1 What on earth's a-coinin' now V But aboard ship, o' 
 course, when you're told to do a thing, you've got to do it : 
 so the rope was rove in a jiffy. 
 
 " ' Now, my lad,' says the mate, in a hard, square kind 
 o' voice that made every word seem like fittin' a stone into 
 a wall, ' you see that 'ere rope f Well, I'll give you ten 
 minutes to confess ; and if you don't tell the truth afore the 
 time's up, I'll hang you like a dog !' 
 
 " The crew all stared at one another as if they couldn't 
 believe their ears (I didn't believe mine, I can tell ye), and 
 then a low growl went among 'em, like a wild beast awak- 
 in' out of a nap. 
 
 u ' Silence, there !' shouts the mate, in a voice like the 
 roar of a nor'easter. ' Stand by to run forard !' as he held 
 the noose ready to put it round the boy's neck. The little 
 feller never flinched a bit j but there was some among the 
 sailors (big strong chaps, as could ha' felled an ox) as shook 
 like leaves in the wind. As for me, I bethought myself o' 
 my little curly-haired lad at home, and how it 'ucl be if 
 any one was to go for to hang him ; and at the very 
 thought on't I tingled all over, and my fingers clinched 
 theirselves as if they was a-grippin' somebody's throat. 
 I clutched hold o' a hand-spike, and held it behind my 
 back, all ready. 
 
 " i Tom,' whispers the chief- engineer to me, 'd'ye think 
 he really means to do it V 
 
 " ' I don't know,' says I, through my teeth ; ' but if he 
 does, he shall go first, if I swings for it !' 
 
 " I've been in many an ugly scrape in my time, but I 
 never felt 'arf as bad as I did then. Every minute seemed 
 as long as a dozen : an' the tick o' the mate's watch, reg'- 
 lar, pricked my ears like a pin. The men were very quiet, 
 but there was a precious ugly look on some o ? their faces ; 
 and I noticed that three or four on 'em kep' edgin' for'ard 
 to where the mate was, in a way that meant mischief. As 
 
74 THE LITTLE STOW-AWAY. 
 
 for me, I'd made up my mind that if he did go for to hang 
 the poor little chap, I'd kill him on the spot, and take my 
 chance. 
 
 u ' Eight minutes,' says the mate, his great deep voice 
 breakin' in upon the silence like the toll o' a funeral bell. 
 1 If you've got anything to confess, my lad, you'd best out 
 with it, for ye're time's nearly up.' 
 
 " ' I've told you the truth,' answers the boy, very pale, but 
 as firm as ever. ' May I say my prayers, please V 
 
 " The mate nodded, and down goes the poor little chap 
 on his knees and puts up his poor little hands to pray. I 
 couldn't make out what he said (fact, my head was in sich 
 a whirl that I'd hardly ha' knowed my own name), but I'll 
 be bound God heard it, every word. Then he ups on his 
 feet again, and puts his hands behind him, and says to the 
 mate quite quietly, ' I'm ready !' 
 
 " And then, sir the mate's hard, grim face broke up all 
 to once, like I've seed the ice in the Baltic. He snatched 
 up the boy in his arms, and kissed him and burst out 
 a-cryin' like a child ; and I think there warn't one of us as 
 didn't do the same. I know I did for one. 
 
 " ' God bless you, my boy !' says he, smoothin' the child's 
 hair with his great hard hand. * You're a true English- 
 man, every inch of you : you wouldn't tell a lie to save 
 your life ! Well, if so be as yer father's cast yer off, I'll 
 be yer father from this day forth ; and if I ever forget you, 
 then may God forget me !' 
 
 " And he kep' his word, too. When we got to Halifax 
 he found out the little un's aunt, and gev her a lump o' 
 money to make him comfortable ; and now he goes to see 
 the youngster every voyage, as reg'lar as can be j and to 
 see the pair on 'em together — the little chap so fond of him, 
 and not bearin' him a bit o' grudge — it's 'bout as pretty 
 a sight as ever I seed. And now, sir, axm' yer parding, 
 it's time for me to be goin' below ; so III just wish yer 
 good-night." 
 
"SURLY TIM'S TROUBLE." 75 
 
 " SURLY TIM'S TROUBLE." 
 
 MKS. I'EANCES HODGSON BURNETT. 
 
 A LANCASHIRE STORY. 
 
 From Scribner's Monthly. 
 
 Abridged for Public Reading. 
 
 Surly Tim is represented to have been an operative in one of 
 the large manufactories in the north of England. He had gained 
 the name of "Surly Tim" through his strange demeanor toward 
 his companions, often refusing to answer their questions or per- 
 form any of the ordinary civilities, on account of which his fellow 
 workmen had given him the cold shoulder and dubbed him " Surly 
 Tim." But one of the partners of the firm took a great deal of 
 interest in Tim, thinking there must be something beneath the 
 rough exterior, and so endeavored from time to time to draw him 
 out, but without success, until one night, as he was going home, he 
 chanced to pass the village churchyard, and heard a noise as of a 
 man in distress just over the fence. Getting over to speak to 
 him, he discovered that the man was none other than Surly Tim, 
 sitting by two graves, one the longer and the other a shorter. 
 Shortly, being, grateful for the sympathy thus extended him, 
 "Surly Tim " begins to tell his story, and why it is that he con- 
 ducts himself as he does. It seems that some years before he had 
 been married to a very lovely woman ; but that she had previously 
 been married to a soldier, one Phil Brent, who had beaten and 
 abused her and finally deserted her and gone into the army, and 
 whom she had heard by letter was killed at the Crimea. Suppos- 
 ing herself free again, of course, she had married Tim. He, after 
 describing the courtship up to a little time before then* marriage, 
 says of her in his broad north-of-England dialect : 
 
 Eosanna Brent an' me got to be good friends, an' we 
 walked home together o' nights, an' talked about our bits 
 o' wage, an' our bits o' debt, an' th' way that wench 'ud 
 keep me up V spirits when I were a bit down-hearted about 
 owt, wur just a wonder. An' bein' as th' lass wur so dear 
 to me, I made up my mind to ax her to be summat dearer. 
 So cnee goin' home wi' her, I takes hold o' her hand an' 
 
76 " SURLY TIM'S TROUBLE." 
 
 lifts it up an' kisses it gentle— as gentle an' wi' summat th' 
 same feelin' as I'd kiss the Good Book. 
 
 " 'Sanna," I says, " bein' as yo've had so much trouble 
 wi' yo're first chance, would yo' be afeard to try a second ? 
 Could yo' trust a mon again f Such a mon as me, 'Sauna f 
 
 " I wouldna be feart to trust thee, Tim," she answers 
 back soft an' gentle after a manner. " I wouldna be feart 
 to trust thee any time." 
 
 I kisses her hand again, gentler still. 
 
 " God bless thee, lass," I says. " Does that mean yes f 
 
 She crept up closer to me i' her sweet, quiet way. 
 
 " Aye, lad," she answers. u It means yes, an' I'll bide 
 by it." 
 
 " An' tha shalt never rue it, lass," said I. " Tha's gi'en 
 thy life to me, an' I'll gi' mine to thee, sure an true." 
 
 So we wur axed i' th' church th' next Sunday, an' a 
 month fra' then we were wed ; an' if ever God's sun shone 
 on a happy mon, it shone on one that day, when we come 
 out o' church together — me an' Eosanna — an' went to our 
 bit o' a home to begin life again. I couldna tell thee, Mes- 
 ter— theer bean't no words to tell how happy an' peaceful 
 we lived fur two year after that. My lass never altered 
 her sweet ways, an' I just loved her to make up to her fur 
 what had gone by. I thanked God-a'-ruoighty fur his 
 blessin' every day, an' every day I prayed to be made worthy 
 of it. An' here's just wheer I'd like to ax a question, 
 Mester, about summat ; at's worretted me a good deal. I 
 dunnot want to question th' Maker, but I would loike to 
 know how it is 'at sometime it seems 'at we're clean forgot 
 — as if He couldna fash hissen about our troubles, an' most 
 loike left 'em to work out theirsens ? Yo' see, Mester, and 
 we aw see sometime, He thinks on us an' gi's us a lift; but 
 hasna tha thysen seen times when tha stopt short and axed 
 thysen, " Wheer's God-a'-moighty, 'at he disna straighten 
 things out a bit ? Th' world's i' a power o' a snarl. Th' 
 righteous is forsaken, 'n' his seed's beggin' bread. An 7 th' 
 
" SURLY TIM'S TROUBLE." 77 
 
 devil's topmost again." I've talked to my lass about it 
 sometime, an' I dunnot think I meant harm, Mester, for I 
 felt humble enough— an' when I talked, my lass she'd lis- 
 ten an' smile soft and sorrowful, but she never gi' me but 
 one auswer. 
 
 "Tim," she'd say, "this is on'y th' skoo 7 , an' we're the 
 scholars, an' He 7 s teachin' us His way. The Teacher would- 
 na be o' much use, Tim, if the scholars knew as much as he 
 did, an' I allers think it's th' best to comfort mysen wi' 
 sayiu', ' The Lord-a'-moighty, he knows." 7 
 
 At th' eeud o' lh' year th' child wur born, th' little lad 
 here," touching the turf with his hand, " 'Wee Wattie' 
 his mother ca'd him, an' he wur a fine, lightsome little chap. 
 Be filled th' whole house wi' music day in an 7 day out, 
 crowin' an' crowin 7 — an' cryin 7 too, sometime. 
 
 Well, Mester, before th' spring wur out Wee Wat was 
 toddlin' round, holdin 7 to his mother's gown, an' by th 7 
 middle o 7 th' next he was cooin' like a dove, an' prattlin 7 
 words i 7 a voice like hers. Happen we set too much store 
 by him, or happen it wur on'y th 7 " Teacher again teachin 7 
 us His way, but nows'ever that wur, I came home one 
 sunny mornin' fro 7 th' factory, an' my dear lass met me at 
 th' door all white an 7 cold, but tryin' hard to be brave an 7 
 help me to bear what she had to tell. 
 
 " Tim, 77 said she, " th 7 Lord ha' sent us trouble ; but we 
 can bear it together, canna we, dear lad "?" 
 
 That wur aw, but I knew what it meant, though th' poor 
 little lamb had been well enough when I kissed him last. 
 
 I went in an' saw him lyin' theer on his pillows, strug- 
 glin' an 7 gaspin 7 in hard convulsions, an 7 I seed aw was 
 over. An 7 in half an hour, just as the sun crept across th 7 
 room an' touched his curls, th' pretty little chap opens his 
 eyes aw at once. 
 
 " Daddy !" he crows out. " Sithee Dad— " an' he lifts 
 hissen up, catches at th 7 floatin 7 sunshine, laughs at it, and 
 fa's back— dead, Mester. 
 
78 " SURLY TIM'S TROUBLE." 
 
 I've allers thowt 'at th' Lord-a'-inoighty knew what he 
 wur doin' when he gi' th' woman t' Adam i' the Garden o' 
 Eden. He knowed he wur nowt but a poor chap as couldna 
 do for hissen ; an' I suppose that's th' reason he gi' the 
 woman th' strength to bear trouble when it comn. I'd ha' 
 gi'n clean in if it hadna been fur my lass when th' little 
 chap deed. 
 
 But the day comn when we could bear to talk about 
 him, an' moind things he'd said an' tried to say i' his bro- 
 ken, babby way. An' so we were creepin' back again to 
 th' old happy quiet, an' we had been for welly six month, 
 when summat fresh comn. I'll never forget it, Mester, th' 
 neet it happened. I'd kissed Rosanna at th' door, and left 
 her standin' theer when I went up to th' village to buy 
 summat she wanted. It wur a bright moonlight neet, just 
 such a neet as this, an' the lass had followed me out to see 
 th' moonshine, it wur so bright an' clear ; an' just before I 
 starts she folds both her hands on my shoulder an' says, 
 soft and thoughtful : 
 
 " Tim, I wonder if the little chap sees us?" 
 
 " I'd loike to know, dear lass," I answers back. An' then 
 she speaks again : 
 
 " Tim, I wonder if he'd know he was ours if he could see, 
 or if he'd ha' forgot. He- wur such a little fellow." 
 
 Them wur th' last peaceful words I ever heerd her 
 speak. I went up to th' village an' getten what she sent 
 me fur, an' then I comn back. 
 
 She wasna outside, an' I couldna see a leet about th' 
 house, but I heerd voices, so I walked straight in — into th' 
 entry an' into th' kitchen, an' theer she wur, Mester— my 
 poor wench, crouching down by th' table, hidin' her face 
 i' her hands, and close beside her wur a mon— a mon i' red 
 sojer clothes. 
 
 My heart leaped into my throat, an' fur a minnit I hadna 
 a word, fur I saw summat wur up, though I couldna tell 
 what it wur. But at last my voice comn back. 
 
"SURLY TIM'S TROUBLE." 7) 
 
 " Good evenin', Mester," I says to him ; " I hope yo' ha' 
 not broughten ill news ? What ails thee, dear lass V 1 
 
 She stirs a little, and gives a moan like a dyin' child ; an' 
 then she lifts up her wan, broken-hearted face, an' stretches 
 out both her hands to me. 
 
 " Tim," she says, " dunnot hate me, lad, dunnot. I 
 thowt he wur dead long sin'. I thowt 'at th' Eooshans 
 killed him an' I wur free, but I amna. I never wur. Ho 
 never deed, Tim, an' theer he is— the mon as I wur wed to 
 an' left by. God forgi' him, an' oh, God forgi' me !" 
 
 Theer, Mester, theer's a story fur thee. My poor lass 
 wasna my wife at aw — th' little chap's mother wasna his 
 feyther's wife, an' never had been. That theer worthless 
 fellow as beat an' starved her an' left her to fight th' world 
 alone, had comn back alive an' well. He could tak' her 
 away fro' me any hour i' th 7 day, an' I couldna say a word 
 to bar him. Th' law said my wife— th' little dead lad's 
 mother — belonged to him, body an' soul. Theer was no 
 law to help us — it wur aw on his side. 
 
 " Tha canna want me now, Phil," she said. u Tha canna 
 care fur me. Tha must know I'm more this mon's wifo 
 than thine. But I dunnot ax thee to gi' me to him, because 
 I know that wouldna be reet ; I on'y ax thee to let me 
 alone. I'll go fur enough off an' never see him more." 
 
 But the villain held to her. If she didna come wi' him, 
 he said, he'd ha' me up before th' court fur bigamy. I 
 could ha' done murder then, Mester, an' I would ha' done, 
 if it hadna been for the poor lass rannin' in betwixt us an' 
 pleadin' wi' aw her might. If we'n been rich foak theer 
 might ha' been some help fur her ; at least th' law might 
 ha' been browt to mak' him leave her be, but bein 7 poor 
 workin' foak theer was on'y one thing : th' wife mun go wi' 
 th' husband, an' theer th' husband stood — a scoundrel, 
 cursing, wi' his black heart on his tongue. 
 
 " Well," says th' lass at last, fair wearied out wi' grief, 
 " I'll go wi' thee, Phil, an' I'll do my best to please thee, 
 
80 "SttXLY TIM'S TROUBLE." 
 
 but I wunnot promise to forget th' mon as has been true 
 to me, an' has stood betwixt me an' th' world." 
 
 Then she turned round to me. 
 
 " Tim," she says, " surely he wunnot refuse to let us go 
 together to th' little lad's grave — fur th' last time." She 
 didna speak to him but to me, an' she spoke still an' 
 strained as if she wur too heart-broke to be wild. Her face 
 was as white as th' dead, but she didna cry, as any other 
 woman would ha' done. " Come, Tim," she said, " he 
 canna say no to that." 
 
 An' so out we went, an' we didna say a word until we 
 come to this very place, Mester. 
 
 We stood here for a minnit silent, an' then I sees her 
 begin to shake, an' she throws hersen down on th' grass wi' 
 her arms flung o'er th' grave, an' she cries out as ef her 
 death-wound had been give to her. 
 
 " Little lad," she says, " little lad, dost ta see thee 
 mother ? Canst na tha hear her callin' thee % Little lad, 
 get nigh to th' Throne an' plead !" 
 
 I fell down beside o' th' poor crushed wench an' sobbed 
 wi' her. I couldna comfort her, fur wheer wur there any 
 comfort for us ? Theer wur none left — theer wur no hope. 
 We was shamed an' broke down — our lives was lost. Th' 
 past wur nowt — th' future wur worsd Oh, my poor lass, 
 how hard she tried to pray— for me, Mester— yes, fur me, 
 as she lay theer wi' her arms round her dead babby's 
 grave, an' her cheek on th' grass as grew o'er his breast. 
 " Lord G-od-a'-moighty !" she says, " help us- -dunnot gi' 
 us up — dunnot, dunnot ! We canna do 'thowt thee now, if 
 th' time ever wur when we could. Th' little chap mun be 
 wi' Thee- I moind th' bit o' comfort about getherln' th' 
 lambs i' His bosom. An', Lord, if tha could spare him a 
 minnit, send him down to us wi' a bit o' leet. Oh, Fey- 
 ther ! help th' poor lad here — help him. Let th' weight 
 fa' on me, not on him. Just help th' poor lad to bear it. 
 If ever I did owt as wur worthy i' Thy sight, let that be 
 
"SUELY TIM'S TROUBLE." 8L 
 
 my reward. Dear Lord-a'-moighty, I'd be willin' to gi' up 
 a bit o' my own heavenly glory fur th' dear lad's sake." 
 
 Well, Mester, she lay theer on th' grass prayin' and cry • 
 in', wild but gentle, fur nigh haaf an hour, an' then it 
 seemed 'at she got quiet loike, an' she got up. Happen th' 
 Lord had hearkened an' sent th' child — happen He had 
 — fur when she getten up her face looked to me aw white 
 an' shinin' i' th' clear moonlight. 
 
 " Sit down by me, dear lad," she said, " an' hold my hand 
 a minnit." I set down an' took hold of her hand, as she 
 bid me. 
 
 " Tim," she said, "this wur why th' little chap deed. 
 Dostna tha see now 'at th' Lord knew best V 
 
 " Yes, lass," I answers humble, an' lays my face on her 
 hand, breakin' down again. 
 
 "Hush, dear lad," she whispers, "we hannot time fur 
 that. I want to talk to thee. Wilta listen V> 
 
 " Yes, wife," I says, an' I heerd her sob when I said it, 
 but she catches hersen up again. 
 
 " I want thee to mak' me a promise," said she. " I want 
 thee to promise never to forget what peace we ha' had. I 
 want thee to remember it allers, an' to momd him 'at's 
 dead, an' let his little hand howd thee back fro' sin an' 
 hard thowts. I'll pray far thee neet an' day, Tim, an' tha 
 shalt pray fur me, an' happen theer'll come a leet. But 
 ef theer dunnot, dear lad— an' I dunnot see how theer 
 could — if theer dunuot, an' we never see each other agen, 
 I want thee to mak' me a promise that if tha sees th' little 
 chap first tha'lt moind him c me, and watch out wi' him 
 nigh th' gate, and I'll promise thee that if I see him 
 first, I'll moind him o 7 thee an' watch out true an' con- 
 stant." 
 
 I promised her, Hester, as yo' can guess, an' we kneeled 
 down an' kissed th' grass, and she took a bit o' th' sod to 
 put i' her bosom. An' then we stood up an ; looked at each 
 other, an' at last she put her dear face on my breast, an' 
 
82 THE WATER-MILL. 
 
 kissed ine, as she had done every neet sin' we were mon 
 an' wife. 
 
 "Good-bye, dear lad," she whispers— her voice aw 
 broken. " Doan't come back to th' house till I'm gone; 
 good-bye, dear, dear lad, an' God bless thee !" An' she 
 slipped out o' my arms an 7 wur gone in a moment, awmost 
 before I could cry out. * * * 
 
 The whole of this beautiful story, with others from Mrs. Burnett's 
 charming pen, may be found in a book of hers, called " Surly Tim 
 and other Stories/' published by Scribner, Armstrong & Co., H". Y. 
 
 TEE WATER-MILL. 
 
 D. C. McCali.uk. 
 
 Ob ! listen to the water-mill, through all the live-long day, 
 As the clicking of the wheels wears hour by hour away ; 
 How languidly the autumn wind doth stir the withered leaves, 
 As on the field the reapers sing, while binding up the sheaves ! 
 A solemn proverb strikes my mind, and as a spell is cast, 
 " The mill will never grind again with water that is past." 
 
 The summer winds revive no more leaves strewn o'er earth and 
 
 main, 
 The sickle never more will reap the yellow gamored grain ; 
 The rippling stream flows ever on, aye tranquil, deep and still, 
 But never glideth back again to busy water-mill. 
 The solemn proverb speaks to all, with meaning deep and vast, 
 "The mill will never grind again with water that is past." 
 
 Oh! clasp the proverb to thy soul, dear loving heart and true, 
 For golden years are fleeting by, and youth is passing too; 
 Ah ! leankto make the most of life, nor lose one happy day, 
 For time will ne'er return sweet joys neglected, tnrown away; 
 JSTor leave one tender word unsaid, thy kindness sow broadcast— 
 "The mill will never grind again with water that is past." 
 
 Oh ! the wasted hours of fife that have swiftly drifted by, 
 Alas ! the good we might have done, all gone without a sigh ; 
 Love that we might once have saved by a single kindly word, 
 
THE FALL OF THE PEMBERTON MILL. 83 
 
 Thoughts conceived but ne'er expressed, perishing, unpenned, 
 
 unheard. 
 Oh ! take the lesson to thy soul, forever clasp it fast, 
 "The mill will never grind again with water that is past." 
 
 "Work on while yet the sun doth shine, thou man of strength and 
 
 will, 
 The streamlet ne'er doth useless glide by clicking water-mill ; 
 Nor wait until to-morrow's light beams brightly on thy way, 
 For all that thou canst call thine own lies in the nhrase " to-day :" 
 Possessions, power, and blooming health must all be lost at last — 
 " The mill will never grind again with water that is past." 
 
 Oh ! love thy God and fellow man, thyself consider last, 
 
 For come it will when thou must scan dark errors of the past ; 
 
 Soon will this fight of life be o'er, and earth recede from view, 
 
 And heaven in all its glory shine' where all is pure and true. 
 
 Ah ! then thou'lt see more clearly still the proverb deep and vast, 
 
 " The mill will never grind again with water that is past." 
 
 THE FALL OF THE PEMBERTON MILL. 
 
 ELIZABETH SXUAHT PHELPS. 
 
 Abridged for Public Reading. 
 
 The following is a vivid description of the terrible disaster which 
 took place at Lawrence, Mass., January 10th, 1860. It is taken 
 from "The Tenth of January," a story of love, jealousy and hero- 
 ism, ending in the awful sacrifice here portrayed. The entire story 
 can be found in a work by the same author, entitled, "Men, 
 Women and Ghosts," published by James R. Osgood & Co. 
 
 [The writer describes Lawrence as " unique in its way/' and says, 
 " Of the twenty-five thousand souls who inhabit that citjy, ten 
 thousand are operatives in "the factories. Of these ten thousand, 
 two-thirds are girls." 
 
 Asenath Martyn was slightly built and undersized. The chil- 
 dren used to cry out, " Humpback ! Humpback !" and peoplo in 
 passing would say, "Look at that girl!" Her face was gravely 
 lined, but womanly and pleasant. The author says, " She puzzled 
 one at the first glance, and at the second. An artist, meeting her 
 
84 THE FALL OF THE PEMBEHTON MILL. 
 
 musing on a canal-bridge one day, went home and painted a May- 
 flower budding in February. " The world had, indeed, dealt harsh- 
 ly with her. Her deformity had been caused by a blow at the 
 hands of a drunken mother. Sene remembered that, and her un- 
 happy childhood ; and when the wretched mother had met a vio- 
 lent death, she also remembered having heard some one say at the 
 funeral, " How glad Sene must be !" Since that, life had meant 
 three things— her father, the mills, and Richard Cross. The latter 
 had, by chance, become a resident of the same home with Sene 
 and her old father. A tender sympathy, combined with a one- 
 ness of interests, soon ripened into love and resulted in an engage- 
 ment. 
 
 After a time Sene discovered that Dick's affections were being 
 drawn away from herself and centred upon Del Ivory, a pretty, 
 fascinating, giddy creature, whose beauty she sometimes envied, 
 but whose frivolity she despised. Dick, not knowing his secret 
 was discovered, was too honorable to think of breaking his engage- 
 ment, and consequently attempted to resist and suppress his new 
 love by avoiding Del and redoubling his attentions to Sene. The 
 latter had long been trying to release him, but could not find the 
 courage to do so ; and he, seeing that she suffered, wearied him- 
 self with plans to make her eyes shine ; and did she try to speak 
 her wretched secret, he suffocated her with kindness, and struck 
 her dumb with tender words. It was the morning after the last 
 of these ineffectual attempts on Sene's part that this reading opens. ] 
 
 The silent city steeped and bathed itself in rose-tints ; 
 the river ran red, and the snow crimsoned on the distant 
 New Hampshire hills; Pemberton, mute and cold, frowned 
 across the disk of the climbing sun, and dripped, as she 
 had seen it drip before, with blood. 
 
 The day broke softly, the snow melted, the wind blew 
 warm from the river. The factory-bell chimed cheerily, 
 and a few sleepers, in safe, luxurious beds, were wakened 
 by hearing the girls sing on their way to work. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Sene was a little dizzy that morning — the constant pal- 
 pitation of the floors always made her dizzy after a wake- 
 
THE FALL OF THE PEMBERTON MILL. 85 
 
 ful night— and so her colored cotton threads danced out of 
 place and troubled her. 
 
 Dell Ivory, working beside her, said, " How the mill 
 shakes ! What's going on V ' 
 
 " It's the new machinery they're h'isting in," observed 
 the overseer, carelessly. " Great improvement, but heavy, 
 very heavy ; they calc'late on getting it all into place to- 
 day ; you'd better be tending to your frame, Miss Ivory." 
 ***** 
 
 Years before, an unknown workman in South Boston, cast- 
 ing an iron pillar upon its core, had suffered it to" float " 
 a little, a very little more, till the thin, unequal side cooled 
 to the measure of an eighth of an inch. That man had 
 provided Aseuath's way of escape. 
 
 She went out at noon with her luncheon, and found a 
 place upon the stairs, away from the rest, and sat there 
 awhile, with her eyes upon the river, thinking. She could 
 not help wondering a little, after all, why God need to have 
 made her so unlike the rest of his fair handiwork. Del 
 came bounding by, and nodded at her carelessly. Two 
 young Irish girls, sisters— the beauties of the mill — mag- 
 nificently colored creatures — were singing a little love-song 
 together, while they tied on their hats to go home. 
 
 " There are such pretty things in the world !" thought 
 poor Sene. 
 
 Did anybody speak to her after the girls were gone ? In- 
 to her heart these words fell suddenly, "He hath no form 
 nor comeliness. His visage was so marred more than any 
 man." 
 
 They clung to her fancy all the afternoon. Sheliked the 
 sound of them. She wove them in with her black and dun 
 colored threads. 
 
 The wind began at last to blow chilly up the staircases, 
 and in at the cracks j the melted drifts out under the wall 
 to harden; the sun dipped above the dam; the mill 
 dimmed slowly j shadows crept down between the frames. 
 
86 THE FALL OF THE PEMBERTON MILL. 
 
 " It's time for lights," said Meg Match, and swore a lit- 
 tle at her spools. 
 
 Sene, in the pauses of her thinking, heard snatches of the 
 girls 7 talk. 
 
 " Going to ask out to-morrow, Meg P 
 
 11 Guess so, yes; me and Bob Smith we thought we'd go 
 to Boston, and come up in the theatre train." 
 
 " Del Ivory, I want the pattern of your zouave." 
 
 " Did I go to church ? No, you don't catch me ! If I 
 slave all the week, I'll do what I please on Sunday." 
 
 " Hush-sh ! There's the boss looking over here !" 
 
 " Kathleen Donnavon, be still with your ghost stories. 
 There's one thing in the world I never will hear about, and 
 that's dead people." 
 
 " Del," said Sene, " I think to-morrow — " 
 
 She stopped. Something strange had happened to her 
 frame; it jarred, buzzed, snapped: the threads untwisted 
 and flew out of place. 
 
 " Curious !" she said, and looked up. 
 
 Looked up to see her overseer turn wildly, clap his hands 
 to his head, and fall ; to hear a shriek from Del that froze 
 her blood ; to see the solid ceiling gape above her ; to see 
 the walls and windows stagger ; to see iron pillars reel, and 
 vast machinery throw up its helpless, giant arms, and 
 a tangle of human faces blanch and writhe ! 
 
 She sprang as the floor sunk. As pillar after pillar 
 gave way, she bounded up an inclined plane, with the 
 gulf yawning after her. It gained upon her, leaped at her, 
 caught her ; beyond were the stairs and an open door ; 
 she threw out her arms, and struggled on with hands and 
 knees, tripped in the gearing, and saw, as she fell, a 
 square, oaken beam above her yield and crash ; it was of a 
 fresh red color ; she dimly wondered why — as she felt her 
 hands slip, her knees slide, support, time, place and reason 
 go utterly out. 
 
 " At ten minutes before five, on Tuesday, the tenth of Jan- 
 
THE FALL OF THE PEMBERTON MILL. 87 
 
 uary, the Pemberton Mill, all hands being at the time on 
 duty, fell to the ground." 
 
 So the record flashed over the telegraph wires, sprang 
 into large type in the newspapers, passed from lip to lip, 
 a nine days' wonder, gave place to the successful candi- 
 date and the muttering South, and was forgotten. 
 
 Who shall say what it was to the seven hundred and fifty 
 souls who were buried in the ruins ? What to the eighty- 
 eight who died that death of exquisite agony ? What to 
 the wrecks of men and women who endure unto this day 
 a life that is worse than death ? WTiat to that architect 
 aud engineer who, when the fatal pillars were first de- 
 livered to them for inspection, had found one broken under 
 their eyes, yet accepted the contract, and built with them 
 a mill whose thin walls, and wide, unsupported stretches 
 might have tottered over massive columns and on flaw- 
 less ore ? 
 
 Sene's father, working at Meg Match's shoes — she was 
 never to wear those shoes, poor Meg !— heard, at ten min- 
 utes before five, what he thought to be the rumble of an 
 earthquake under his very feet, and stood with bated 
 breath, waiting for the crash. As nothing further ap- 
 peared to happen, he took his stick and limped out into the 
 street. 
 
 A vast crowd surged through it from end to end. Women 
 with white lips were counting the mills— Pacific, Atlantic 7 
 Washington— Pemberton ! Where was Pemberton ? 
 
 Where Pemberton had winked its many eyes last night, 
 and hummed with its iron lips this noon, a cloud of dust, 
 black, silent, horrible, puffed a hundred feet into the air. 
 
 Asenath opened her eyes after a time. Beautiful green 
 and purple fights had been dancing about her, but she 
 had had no thoughts. It occurred to her now that she 
 must have been struck upon the head. The church-clocks 
 were striking eight. A bonfire which had been built at a 
 distance, to fight the citizens in the work of rescue, cast a 
 
88 THE FALL OF THE PEMBERTON MILL. 
 
 little gleam in through the debris across her two hands, 
 which lay clasped together at her side. One of her fingers, 
 she saw, was gone ; it was the finger which held Dick's lit- 
 tle engagement ring. The red beam lay across her fore- 
 head, and drops dripped from it upon her eyes. Her feet, 
 still tangled in the gearing which had tripped her, were 
 buried beneath a pile of bricks. 
 
 A broad piece of flooring, that had fallen slantwise, 
 roofed her in, and saved her from the mass of ironwork 
 overhead, which would have crushed the breath out of 
 Hercules. Fragments of looms, shafts and pillars were in 
 heaps about. Some one whom she could not see was dying 
 just behind her. A little girl who worked in her room — a 
 mere child— was crying, between her groans, for her 
 mother. Del Ivory sat in a little open space, cushioned 
 about with reels of cotton ; she had a shallow gash upon 
 her cheek ; she was wringing her hands. They were at 
 work from the outside, sawing entrances through the laby- 
 rinth of planks. A dead woman lay close by, and Sene 
 saw them draw her out. It was Meg Match. One of the 
 pretty Irish girls was crushed quite out of sight ; only one 
 hand was free ; she moved it feebly. They could hear her 
 calling for Jimmy Mahoney, Jimmy Mahoney ! and would 
 they be sure and give him back the handkerchief f Poor 
 Jimmy Mahoney ! By-and-by she called no more ; and in 
 a little while the hand was still. On the other side of the 
 slanted flooring some one prayed aloud. She had a little 
 baby at home. She was asking God to take care of it for 
 her. " For Christ's sake," she said. Sene listened for the 
 Amen, but it was never spoken. Beyond they dug a man 
 out from under a dead body, unhurt. He crawled to his 
 feet, and broke into furious blasphemies. 
 
 Del cried presently that they were cutting them out. 
 The glare of bonfires struck through an opening ; saw^s and 
 axes flashed ; voices grew distinct. 
 
 " They never can get at me," said Sene. "I must be 
 
THE FALL OF THE PEMBERTON MILL. 89 
 
 able to crawl. If you could get some of those bricks off of 
 my feet, Del !» 
 
 Del took off two or three iu a frightcucd way ; then see- 
 ing the blood on them, sat down aud cried. 
 
 A Scotch girl, with one arm shattered, crept up and re- 
 moved the pile, then fainted. 
 
 The opening broadened, brightened ; the sweet night- 
 wind blew in ; the safe night-sky shone through. Sene's 
 heart leaped within her. Out in the wind and under the 
 sky she should stand again, after all ! Back in the little 
 bright kitchen, where the sun shone, and she could sing a 
 song, there would yet be a place for her. She thought of 
 her father, of Dick, of the supper-table set for three. Life 
 — even her life, grew sweet, now that it was slipping from 
 her. She worked her head from under the beam, and 
 raised herself upon her elbow. At that moment she heard 
 a cry: 
 
 " Fire ! fire ! God Almighty help them — the ruins 
 
 ARE ON FIRE !" 
 
 A man working over the debris from the outside had 
 taken the notion — it being rather dark just there — to carry 
 a lantern with him. 
 
 " For God's sake," a voice cried from the crowd, "don't 
 stay there with that light V* 
 
 But before the word had died upon the air, it was the 
 dreadful fate of the man with the lantern to let it fall, and 
 it broke upon the ruined mass. 
 
 That was at nine o'clock. What there was to see from 
 then till morning could never be told or forgotten. 
 
 A network twenty feet high, of rods and girders, of 
 beams, pillars, stairways, gearing, roofing, ceiling, wailing ; 
 wrecks of looms, shafts, twisters, pulleys, bobbins, mules, 
 locked and interwoven ; wrecks of human creatures wedged 
 in ; a face that you know turned up at you from some pit 
 which twenty-four hours' hewing could not open; a voice 
 that you know crying after you from God knows where ; a 
 
90 THE FALL OF THE PEMBERTON MILL. 
 
 mass of long, fair hair visible here, afoot there, three lingers 
 of a hand over there ; the snow bright-red underfoot; charred 
 limbs and headless trunks tossed about ; strong men carry- 
 ing covered things by you, at sight of which other strong 
 men have fainted ; the little yellow jet that flared up, and 
 died in smoke, and flared again, leaped out, licked the cot- 
 ton bales, tasted the oiled machinery, crunched the netted 
 wood, danced on theheaped-up stone, threw its cruel arms 
 high into the night, roared for joy at helpless firemen, 
 and swallowed wreck, death and life together out of your 
 sight — the lurid thing stands alone in the gallery of tragedy. 
 
 " Del," said Sene, presently, " I smell the smoke." And 
 in a little while, " How red it is growing away over there 
 at the left!" 
 
 To lie here and watch the hideous redness crawling after 
 her, springing at her ! — it had seemed greater than reason 
 could bear, at first. 
 
 Now it did not trouble her. She grew a little faint, and 
 her thoughts wandered. She put her head down upon her 
 arm, and shut her eyes. Dreamily she heard them saying 
 a dreadful thing outside, about one of the overseers j at 
 the alarm of fire he had cut his throat, and before the 
 flames touched him he was taken out. Dreamily she heard 
 Del cry that the shaft behind the heap of reels was 
 growing hot. Dreamily she saw a tiny puff of smoke 
 struggle through the cracks of a broken fly-frame. 
 
 They were working to save her, with rigid, stern faces. 
 A plank snapped, a rod yielded ; they drew out the Scotch 
 girl ; her hair was singed ; then a man with blood upon his 
 face and wrists held down his arms. 
 
 " There's time for one more ! God save the rest of ye — 
 I can't !» 
 
 Del sprang j then stopped — even Del — stopped ashamed, 
 and looked back at the cripple. 
 
 Asenath at this sat up erect. The latent heroism in her 
 awoke. All her thoughts grew clear and bright. The 
 
THE FALL OE THE PEMBERTON MILL. 91 
 
 tangled skein of her perplexed and troubled winter 
 unwound suddenly. This, then, was the way. It was "bet- 
 ter so. God had provided himself a lamb for the burnt of- 
 fering. 
 
 So she said, " Go, Del, and tell him I sent you with my 
 dear love, and that it's all right." 
 
 And Del at the first word went. 
 
 Sene sat and watched them draw her out ; it was a slow 
 process ; the loose sleeve of her factory sack was scorched. 
 
 Somebody at work outside turned suddenly and caught 
 her. It was Dick. The love which he had fought so long 
 broke free of barrier in that hour. He kissed her pink arm 
 where the burnt sleeve fell off. He uttered a cry at the 
 blood upon her face. She turned faint with the sense of 
 safety ; and, with a face as white as her own, he bore her 
 away in his arms to the hospital, over the crimson snow. 
 
 Asenath looked out through the glare and smoke with 
 parched lips. For a scratch upon the girl's smooth cheek, 
 he had quite forgotten her. They had left her, tombed 
 alive here in this furnace, and gone their happy way. Yet 
 it gave her a curious sense of relief and triumph. If this 
 were all that she could be to him, the thing which she had 
 done was right, quite right. God must have known. She 
 turned away, and shut her eyes again. 
 
 When she opened them, neither Dick, nor Del, nor 
 crimsoned snow, nor sky, were there; only the smoke 
 writhing up a pillar of blood-red flame. 
 
 The child who had called for her mother began to sob 
 out that she was afraid to die alone. 
 
 "Come here, Molly," said Sene. "Can you crawl 
 around V 
 
 Molly crawled around. 
 
 u Put your head in my lap, and your arms about my 
 waist, and I will put my hands in yours — so. There ! I 
 guess that's better." 
 
 But they had not given them up yet. In the still un 
 
92 THE FALL OF THE PEMBERTON MILL. 
 
 burnt rubbish at the right, some one had wrenched an 
 opening within a foot of Sene's face. They clawed at the 
 solid iron pintles like savage things. A fireman fainted in 
 the glow. 
 
 " Give it up !" cried the crowd from behind. " It can't 
 be done ! Fall back !" — then hushed, awe-struck. 
 
 An old man was crawling along upon his hands and 
 knees over the heated bricks. He was a*very old man. 
 His gray hair blew about in the wind. 
 
 " I want my little gal!" he said. ''Can't anybody tell 
 me where to find my little gal f w 
 
 A rough- looking young fellow pointed in perfect^silence 
 through the smoke. 
 
 " Fll have her out yet. I'm an old man, but I can help. 
 She's my little gal, ye see. Hand me that there dipper of 
 water ; it'll keep her from choking, may be. Now ! keep 
 cheery, Sene ! Your old father '11 get ye out. Keep up 
 good heart, child ! That's it !" 
 
 " It's no use, father. Don't feel bad, father. I don't 
 mind it very much." 
 
 He hacked at the timber ; he tried to laugh ; he bewil- 
 dered himself with cheerful words. 
 
 " No more ye needn't, Senath, for itll be over in a min- 
 ute. Don't be downcast yet ! Well have ye safe at home 
 before ye know it. Drink a little more water — do now ! 
 They'll get at ye now, sure !" 
 
 But above the crackle and roar a woman's voice rang 
 out like a bell : 
 
 « "We're going home, to die no more." 
 
 A child's notes quavered in the chorus. From sealed and 
 
 unseen graves, white young lips swelled the glad refrain — 
 
 " "We're going, going home." 
 
 The crawling smoke turned yellow, turned red. Voice 
 after voice broke and hushed utterly. One only sang on 
 like silver. It flung defiance down at death. It chimed 
 
DEATH OF LITTLE JO. 93 
 
 into the lurid sky without a tremor. For One stood beside 
 her in the furnace, and His form was like unto the form of 
 the Son of God. Their eyes met. Why should not Ase- 
 nath sing? 
 
 "Senath!" cried the old man out upon the burning 
 bricks ; he was scorched now, from his gray hair to his 
 patched boots. 
 
 The answer came triumphantly : 
 
 "To die no more, no more, no more I" 
 
 "Sene! little Sene !" 
 
 _ .__ 
 
 DEATH OF LITTLE JO. 
 
 From "Bleak House." 
 
 Jo is very glad to see his old friend ; and says, when 
 they are left alone, that he takes it uncommon kind as 
 Mr. Sangsby should come so far out of his way on accounts 
 of sich as him. Mr. Sangsby, touched by the spectacle be- 
 fore him, immediately lays upon the table half-a-crown, 
 that magic balsam of his for all kinds of wounds. 
 
 " And how do you find yourself, my poor lad f inquires 
 the stationer, with his cough of sympathy. 
 
 " I'm in luck, Mr. Sangsby, I am," returns Jo, " and don't 
 want for nothink. I'm more cumf bier nor you can't think, 
 Mr. Sangsby. I'm wery sorry that I done it, but I didn't 
 go fur to do it, sir." 
 
 The stationer softly lays down another half-crown, and 
 asks him what it is that he is sorry for having done. 
 
 " Mr. Sangsby," says Jo, " I went and giv a illness to 
 the lady as wos and yet as warn't the t'other lady, and 
 none of 'em never says nothink to me for having done it, 
 on accounts of their being so good and my having been s' 
 unfortnet. The lady come herself and see me yes'day, 
 and she ses, ' Ah Jo !' she ses. ' We thought we'd lost 
 
94 DEATH OF LITTLE JO. 
 
 you, Jo V she ses. And she sits down a smilin' so quiet, 
 and don't pass a word nor yit a look upon me for having 
 done it, she dou't, and I turns agin the wall, I doos, Mr. 
 Saugsby. And Mr. Jarnders, I see hiin a forced to turn 
 away his own self. And Mr. Woodcot, he come fur to 
 give me somethiuk fur to ease me, wot he's alius a doin' 
 on day and night, and w'en he come a-bendin' over me 
 and a-speakin' up so bold, I see his tears a-fallin', Mr. 
 Sangsby." 
 
 The softened stationer deposits another half-crown on 
 the table. Nothing less than a repetition of that infallible 
 remedy will relieve his feelings. 
 
 " Wot I wos thinkin' on, Mr. Sangsby," proceeds Jo, 
 " wos, as you wos able to write wery large, p'raps f 
 
 " Yes, Jo, please God," returns the stationer. 
 
 "Uncommon precious large, p'rap3 V says Jo, with 
 eagerness. 
 
 " Yes, my poor boy." 
 
 Jo laughs with pleasure. " Wot I wos thinkrn' on then, 
 Mr. Sangsby, wos, that wen I wos moved on as fur as ever 
 I could go, and couldn't be moved no furder, whether you 
 might be so good, p'raps, as to write out, wery large, so 
 that any one could see it anywheres, as that I wos wery 
 truly hearty sorry that I done it, and that I never went fur 
 to do it ; and that though I didn't know nothink. at all, I 
 know'd as Mr. Woodcot once cried over it, and wos alius 
 grieved over it, and that I hoped as he'd be able to forgive 
 me in his mind. If the writin' could be made to say it 
 wery large he might." 
 
 " It shall say it, Jo ; very large." 
 
 Jo laughs again. " Thankee, Mr. Sangsby. It's wery 
 kind of you, sir, and it makes me more comf bier nor I wos 
 afore." 
 
 The meek little stationer, with a broken and unfinished 
 cough, slips down his fourth half-crown— he has never been 
 so close to a case requiring so many — and is fain to depart. 
 
DEATH OF LITTLE JO. 95 
 
 And Jo and he, upon this little earth, shall meet no more. 
 No more. 
 
 {Another Scene. — Enter Mr. Woodcot.) 
 
 11 Well, Jo, what is the matter ? Don't be frightened." 
 
 " I thought," says Jo, who has started, and is looking 
 round, u I thought I was in Tom-all-Alone's agin. An't 
 there nobody here but you, Mr. Woodcot V* 
 
 " Nobody." 
 
 " And I an't took back to Tom-all- Alone' s ; am I, sir V 7 
 
 "No." 
 
 Jo closes his eyes, muttering, " I am wery thankful." 
 
 After watching him closely a little while, Allan puts his 
 mouth very near his ear t and says to him in a low, distinct 
 voice : " Jo, did you ever know a prayer?" 
 
 " Never know'd nothink, sir." 
 
 " Not so much as one short prayer V } 
 
 "No, sir. Nothink at all. Mr. Chadbands he wos a 
 prayin' wunst at Mr. Sangsby's and I heerd him, but he 
 sounded as if he wos a-speakin' to hisself, and not to me. 
 He prayed a lot, but I couldn't make out nothink on it. 
 Different times there wos other gen'l'men come down Tom- 
 all- Alone's a-prayin', but they all mostly sed as the t'other 
 wuns prayed wrong, and all mostly sounded to be a-talkin' 
 to theirselves, or a-passing blame on the t'others, and not 
 a-talkin' to us. We never know'd nothink. I never 
 know'd what it wos all about." 
 
 It takes him a long time to say this ; and few but an ex- 
 perienced and attentive listener could hear, or, hearing, 
 understand him. After a short relapse into sleep or 
 stupor, he makes, of a sudden, a strong effort to get out of 
 bed. 
 
 " Stay, Jo, stay ! What now V 1 
 
 " It's time for me to go to that there berryin' ground, 
 sir," he returns with a wild look. 
 
 "Lie down, and tell me. What burying ground, Jo W 
 
 " Where they laid him as wos wery good to me ; wery 
 
96 DEATH OF LITTLE JO. 
 
 good to me, indeed, he wos. It's time for me to go down 
 to that there benyin' ground, sir, and ask to be put along 
 with him. I wants to go there and be berried. He used 
 for to say to me, 4 am as poor as you, to-day, Jo/ he ses. 
 I wants to tell him that I am as poor as him, now,, and 
 have come there to be laid along with him." 
 
 " By-and-by, Jo ; by -and-by." 
 
 " Ah ! Prhaps they wouldn't do it if 1 wos to go myself. 
 But will you promise to have me took there, sir, and laid 
 along with him V 
 
 " I will, indeed." 
 
 " Thankee, sir ! Thankee, sir ! They'll have to get the 
 key of the gate afore they can take me in, for it's alius 
 locked. And there's a step there, as I used fur to clean 
 with my broom — it's turned wery dark, sir. Is there any 
 light a-comin' f 
 
 " It is coming fast, Jo." 
 
 Fast. The cart is shaken all to pieces, and the rugged 
 road is very near its end. 
 
 "Jo, my poor fellow !" 
 
 " I hear you, sir, in the dark, but I'm a-gropin' — a-gropin' 
 
 let me catch hold of your hand." 
 
 " Jo, can you say what I say ?" 
 
 11 I'll say anything as you say, sir, for I knows it's good." 
 
 "Our Father." 
 
 " Our Father ! — yes, that's wery good, sir." 
 
 " Which art in Heaven." 
 
 " Art in Heaven ! — Is the light a-ccmin', sir V 
 
 il It is close at hand. Hallowed be thy name." 
 
 " Hallowed be — thy — name !" 
 
 The light is come upon the dark benighted way. Dead. 
 Dead, your Majesty. Dead, my lords and gentlemen. 
 Dead, Eight Reverends and Wrong Reverends of every 
 order. Dead, men and women, born with heavenly com- 
 passion in your hearts. And dying thus around us every 
 dayl 
 
THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. 97 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. 
 
 Abridged for Public Beading. 
 
 " I thought, Mr. Allan, when I gave my Bennie to his 
 country, that not a father in all this broad land made so 
 precious a gift— no, not one. The dear boy only slept a 
 minute, just one little minute, at his post ; I know that 
 was all, for Bennie never dozed over a duty. How 
 prompt and reliable he was ! I know he only fell asleep 
 one little second— he was so young, and not strong, that 
 hoy of mine! Why, he was as tall as I, and only eight- 
 een ! and now they shoot him because he was found asleep 
 when doing sentinel duty. Twenty-four hours, the tele- 
 gram said— only twenty-tOur hours. Where is Bennie 
 now ?" 
 
 "We will hope, with his heavenly Father," said Mr. 
 Allan, soothingly. 
 
 " Yes, yes j let us hope ; God is very merciful ! 
 ' " ' I should be ashamed, father/ Bennie said, l when I 
 am a man, to think I never used this great right arm 7 — 
 and he held it out so proudly before me — l for my country, 
 when it needed it. Palsy it rather than keep it at the 
 plow.' 
 
 " * Go, then, go, my boy,' I said, ' and God keep you P 
 God has kept him, I think, Mr. Allan !" and the farmer re- 
 peated these last words slowly, as if, in spite of his reason, 
 his heart doubted them. 
 
 " Like the apple of his eye, Mr. Owen ; doubt it not." 
 
 Blossom sat near them listening, with blanched cheek. 
 She had not shed a tear. Her anxiety had been so con- 
 cealed that no one had noticed it. She had occupied her- 
 self mechanically in the household cares. Now she an- 
 swered a gentle tap at the kitchen door, opening it to re- 
 ceive from a neighbor's hand a letter. " It is from him," 
 was all she said. 
 
 It was like a message from the dead ! Mr. Owen took 
 
98 THE soldier's reprieve. 
 
 the letter, but could not break the envelope, on account of 
 his trembling fingers, and held it toward Mr. Allan, with 
 the helplessness of a child. 
 
 The minister opened it, and read as follows : 
 
 " Dear Father : — When this reaches you I shall be 
 in eternity. At first, it seemed awful to me ; but I have 
 thought about it so much now, that it has no terror. Tbey 
 say they will not bind me, nor blind me ; but that I may 
 meet my death like a man. I thought, father, it might 
 have been on the battle-field, for my country, and that, 
 when I fell, it would be fighting gloriously ; but to be shot 
 down like a dog for nearly betraying it — to die for neglect 
 of duty ! father, I wonder the very thought does not 
 kill me ! But I shall not disgrace you. I am going to 
 write you all about it j and when I am gone, you may tell 
 my comrades. I cannot now. 
 
 " You know I promised Jemmie Carr's mother I would 
 look after her boy ; and when he fell sick I did all I could 
 for him. He was not strong when he was ordered back in- 
 to the ranks, and the day before that night, I carried all 
 his luggage, beside my own, on our march. Towards 
 night we went in on double-quick, and though the lug- 
 gage began to feel very heavy, everybody else was tired 
 too ; and as for Jemmie, if I had not lent him an arm now 
 and then, he would have dropped by the way. I was all 
 tired out when we came into camp, and then it was Jem- 
 mie's turn to be sentry, and I would take his place ; but I 
 was too tired, father. I could not have kept awake if a 
 gun had been pointed at my head ; but I did not know it 
 until— well, until it was too late." 
 
 " God be thanked !" interrupted Mr. Owen, reverently. 
 " I knew Bennie was not the boy to sleep carelessly at his 
 post." 
 
 "They tell me to-day that I have a short reprieve, given 
 to me by circumstances — ' time to write to you/ our good 
 colonel says. Forgive him, father, he only does his duty ; 
 
THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. 99 
 
 he would gladly save me if he could ; and do not lay my 
 death up against Jemmie. The poor boy is broken-heart- 
 ed, and does nothing but beg and entreat them to let him 
 die in my stead. 
 
 f I can't bear to think of mother and Blossom. Comfort 
 them, father ! Tell them I die as a brave boy should, and 
 that, when the war is over, they will not be ashamed of 
 me, as they must be now. God help me ; it is very hard to 
 bear! Good-by, father! God seems near and dear to 
 me ; not at all as if He wished me to perish forever, but as 
 if He felt sorry for His poor, sinful, broken-hearted child, 
 and would take me to be with Him and my Saviour in a bet- 
 ter, better life." 
 
 A deep sigh burst from Mr. Owen's heart. " Amen," he 
 said solemnly, "Amen." 
 
 " To-night, in the early twilight, I shall see the cows all 
 coming home from pasture, and precious little Blossom 
 stand on the back stoop, waiting for me ! But I shall 
 never, never come ! God bless you all ! Forgive your 
 poor Bennie." 
 
 Late that night the door of the u back stoop n opened 
 softly, and a little figure glided out, and down the foot- 
 path that led to the road by the mill. She seemed rather 
 flying than walking, turning her head neither to the right 
 nor to the left, looking only now and then to Heaven, and 
 folding her hands as if in prayer. Two hours later, 
 the same young girl stood at the Mill Depot, watching the 
 coming of the night train ; and the conductor, as he reached 
 down to lift her into the car, wondered at the tear-stained 
 face that was upturned toward the dim lantern he held in 
 his hand. A few questions and ready answers told him 
 all; and no father could have cared more tenderly for his 
 only child, than he for our little Blossom. She was on her 
 way to Washington, to ask President Lincoln for her 
 brother's life. She had stolen away, leaving only a note 
 to tell where and why she had gone. She had brought 
 
100 THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. 
 
 Bonnie's letter with her; no good, kind heart, like the 
 President's, could refuse to be melted by it. The next 
 morning they reached New York, and the conductor hurried 
 her on to Washington. Every minute, now, might be the 
 means of saving her brother's life. And so, in an incredi- 
 bly short time, Blossom reached the Capital, and hastened 
 immediately to the White House. 
 
 The President had but just seated himself to his morn- 
 ing task, of overlooking and signing important papers, 
 when, without one word of announcement, the door softly 
 opened, and Blossom, with downcast eyes and folded 
 hands, stood before him. 
 
 " Well, my child," he said, in his pleasant, cheerful 
 tones, "what do you want, so bright and early in the 
 morning V 1 
 
 " Bennie's life, please, sir," faltered Blossom. 
 
 " Bennie ! Who is Bennie V> 
 
 "My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for 
 sleeping at his post." 
 
 "Oh, yes;" and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the pa- 
 pers before him. "I remember. It was a fatal sleep. 
 You see, child, it was at a time of special danger. Thou- 
 sands of lives might have been lost for his culpable negli- 
 gence." 
 
 " So my father said," replied Blossom, gravely, " but 
 poor Bennie was so tired, sir, and Jemmie so weak : He 
 did the work of two, sir, and it was Jemmie's night, not 
 his ; but Jemmie was too tired, and Bennie never thought 
 about himself, that he was tired, too." 
 
 " What is this you say, child ? Come here ; I do not 
 understand," and the kind man caught eagerly, as ever, 
 at what seemed to be a justification of an offense. 
 
 Blossom went to him ; he put his hand tenderly on her 
 shoulder, and turned up the pale, anxious face towards 
 his. How tall he seemed ! and he was President of the 
 United States, too. A dim thought of this kind passed 
 
BROTHER ANDERSON. 101 
 
 for a moment through Blossom's mind; but sbe told her 
 simple and straightforward story, aud handed Mr. Lincoln 
 Bennie's letter to read. 
 
 He read it carefully ; then, taking up his pen, wrote a 
 few hasty lines, and rang his bell. 
 
 Blossom heard this order given : " Send this dispatch at 
 once." 
 
 The President then turned to the girl and said, "Go 
 home, my child, and tell that father of yours, who could 
 approve his country's sentence, even when it took the life 
 of a child like that, that Abraham Lincoln thinks the life 
 far too precious to be lost. Go back, or — wait until to- 
 morrow ; Bennie will need a change after he has so brave- 
 ly faced death; he shall go with you." 
 
 "God bless you, sir," said Blossom; and who shall 
 doubt that God heard and registered the request ? 
 
 Two days after this interview, the young soldier came to 
 the White House with his little sister. He was called into 
 the President's private room, and a strap fastened upon 
 the shoulder. Mr. Lincoln then said : li The soldier that 
 could carry a sick comrade's baggage, and die for the act 
 so uncomplainingly, deserves well of his country." Then 
 Bennie and Blossom took their way to their Green Moun- 
 tain home. A crowd gathered at the Mill Depot to wel- 
 come them back; and, as farmer Owen's hand grasped 
 that of his boy, tears flowed down his cheeks, and he was 
 heard to say fervently : " The Lord be praised /" 
 
 BROTHER ANDERSON. 
 
 THOMAS K. BEECHER 
 
 I was to preach for brother Anderson. He was a good 
 pastor. Almost the last time I saw him he had just 
 called upon a lamb of his flock to ask after her spiritual 
 welfare, and for fifty cents toward his salary. He bad 
 left his tub and brushes at the foot of the hill, and he re- 
 
102 BROTHER ANDERSON. 
 
 sumed them when he had made his call; for, like the 
 great apostlo, he used to labor, working with his own 
 hands. 
 
 Punctual to the hour, brother Anderson came rolling 
 across the street, and up to the door, and we went in to- 
 gether. After the usunl songs and prayers, I took for my 
 text Paul's counsel to the Corinthians as to their disorder- 
 ly meetings and meaningless noises. The sermon was, 
 in the main, a reading of the fourteenth chapter of Paul's 
 first letter, with comments and applications interspersed. 
 I spoke for half an hour, and while showiug consideration 
 for the noisy ways of my audience, exhorted them to cul- 
 tivate intelligence as well as passion. 
 
 u When you feel the glory of God in you, let it out, of 
 course. Shout Glory, clap your hands, and all that. But 
 stop now and then, and let some wise elder stand up and 
 tell what ifc all means. Men and boys hang round your 
 windows, and laugh at you and religion, because they don't 
 understand. Some men have religion all in their heads ; 
 others in their hearts. Now you must have it in your heads 
 and hearts." 
 
 As I sat down Brother Anderson stood on the pulpit 
 step to give out a hymn. 
 
 I am not certain that he could read, for he stood book in 
 hand, and seemingly from memory gave the number 
 of the hymn, and repeated the first two stanzas with deep 
 and growing feeling. Of the third he read three lines : 
 One army ob de livin' God 
 To his comman' we bow ; 
 Part of hos (t) 'ov cross'er flood, 
 An' part 
 
 Here he stopped, and after swallowing one or two 
 chokes, went on to say : I love Brudder Beecher. I love 
 to hear him preach. He's told us a good many things. 
 He's our good fr'en. An' he sez dat some folks goes up to 
 glory noisy 'n shoutin', and some goes still-like, ; z if they's 
 
BROTHER ANDERSONS 103 
 
 'shamed of wat's in 'em. And be sez we'd better be more 
 like de still-kind, an'de white-kind, an' de white folk will 
 like us move. But den I tinks 'taint much 'count no way, 
 wedder we goes up still-like or shoutin', cause heaven's a 
 mighty big place, brudder ; an' wen we all goes marchin' 
 up to see de Lord, an' I's so full ob de lub, and de joy, and 
 de glory, dat I mus' clap my han's an' shout, de good 
 Lord's got some place war we won't 'sturb nobody, aud we 
 can shout, Glory ! Glory ! Bress de Lord ! I'm safe, I'm 
 safe in glory at las' ; I tell you, brudders an' sisters, dat 
 heaven's a mighty big place, and dere's room dare lor 
 brudder Beecher an' us too. 
 
 " Brudder Beecher says de engines on de railroad only 
 puff, puff, regular breathin'-like, when dey's at work haulm 
 de big loads, and dat de bell and whistle don't do no work, 
 dey only make a noise ; guess dat's so. I don't know 'bout 
 ingins much, and I don't know wedder I's a puff-puff ingin, 
 or wedder I blow de whistle an' rings de bell. I feels like 
 bofe (with a chuckle) sometimes ! An' I tell you what, 
 wen de fire is a burnin', an' I gets de steam up, don't dribe 
 no cattle on de track ! 
 
 tl An' de boys an' gals, an' de clarks an' young lawyers, 
 dey come up yar watch-nights, and dey peep in de win- 
 ders, an' stan' roun' de doors, an' dey laugh an' make fun 
 of 'lig'n ! An' Brudder Beecher sez, why don't we stop de 
 noise now'n den, an' go out an' tell 'em 'bout it— 'splain it 
 to 'em ? An' I 'members what de Bible says 'bout de outer 
 darkness, an' de weepin', an' de wailin', an' de gnashin' ob 
 de teef. An' if dese boys an' gals stan' dar outside a-laffin', 
 bimeby dey'll come to de wailin' an' de weepin' fus' dey 
 know. An' den when dey stan' roun' de great temple 
 ob de Lord, an' see de glory shinin' out, an' de harpers 
 harpin', and all de music, an' de elders bowin', an' all de 
 shoutin' like many waters, an' all de saints a-singin' l Glory 
 to de Lam' ! ' s'pose God'll say, < Stop dat ar noise dar, 
 Gabr'l j you Gabr'l go out an' 'splain' ? 
 
104 A BASKET OF FLOWERS. 
 
 11 Yes, I see dera stan' las' winter 'roun' de doors an' un- 
 der de winders an' laffj an' dey peek in an' laff. An' I 
 'member wot I saw last summer 'mong de bees. Some ob 
 de hives was nice, an' clean an' still, like 'spectable meetin's, 
 an' de odders was a bustin' wid honey ; an' de bees kep' 
 a-goin' an' a-comin' in de clover ; an' dey jes kep' on a-ull- 
 in' up de hive, till de honey was a-flowin' like de Ian' of 
 Canaan. An' I saw all 'roun' de hives was de ants an 7 
 worms, an' de great drones, an' black bugs, an' dey kep' 
 on de outside. Dey wasn' bees. Dey couldn' make de 
 honey for darselves. Dey couldn' fly to de clover an' de 
 honey-suckle. Dey jes' hung 'roun' de bustin' hive, an' 
 lived on de drippin's. 
 
 11 An' de boys an' gals come up yar, an' hang 'roun'. 
 Jes' come in, an' we'll show you how de gospel bees do. 
 Come in an' we'll lead you to de clover ! Come in — we'll 
 make your wings grow. Come in ! won't ye ? Well den, 
 poor things, let 'em stan' 'roun' de outside, an' hab de 
 drippin's. We's got honey in dis hive. 
 Part of 'e hos' av cross 'er flood, 
 An' part are crossin' now. 
 
 " Sing, brudders, sing." And they sang. * * * 
 
 A BASKET OF FLOWEES. 
 
 SARAH BRIDGES STEBBIXS. 
 
 Abridged for Public Reading. 
 
 A few days afterward the Light of the Household went 
 forth into the poor places of the neighborhood and brought 
 in, one by one, shrinking children, with shabby garments 
 and shy glances ; little girls ungathered into schools, un- 
 taught of ignorant parents who were slaves of labor, to 
 whom was preached no Gospel of salvation from idleness, 
 weakness or vice. These, allured in unwillingly at first, 
 hard enough for a time to keep together, came at last into 
 
A BASKET OF ELOWEES. 105 
 
 this quiet chamber as to a holy shrine, sat earnestly at the 
 feet of a pale, patient teacher, and learned the ways of 
 truth and right. Day by day — for a few minutes only 
 sometimes, sometimes for hours, according to her fluctu- 
 ating strength — she had them with her, and in the poor 
 homes where they belonged the mothers listened with a 
 sort of awe to the accounts of this pale lady, lying always 
 on her couch, covered with the white, fleecy folds of her 
 delicate work, and giving out to little rapt listeners thoughts 
 that would abide with them all their lives. 
 
 After a while Christmas was drawing near, and one day 
 there was an interesting assemblage of these small scholars 
 in a room where one of them lived, whose mother was a 
 washerwoman, and upon tubs and buckets they were seat- 
 ed in a circle ; and the subject of their meeting and consul- 
 tation was, How to Get a Christmas Present for the Crip- 
 pled Sister, and what It Should Be. 
 
 Strange and various articles were proposed, to which 
 many objections were raised, principally by the little Pres- 
 ident, who seemed to think her most important duty was 
 to keep the intended expenditure within the limits of the 
 probable amount, for which purpose she was obliged to do a 
 good many sums out loud. The puzzle was growing deep- 
 er, and the likelihood of a decision seemed farther off than 
 ever, when Nettie Blane said, in her soft voice : " I know 
 what the lady loves more than anything else, and that's 
 flowers ! Why, just here a while ago, before it got so cold, 
 I found a bunch of wild posies growing alongside the road 
 as I was going to her house ; they were just common things, 
 but I picked them and took them to her, and you just 
 ought to have seen her over them ! Her face lit all up, 
 she was so pleased, and do you know that for a minute 
 she looked like she never was sick at all; and she kind of 
 petted them with her fingers, and thanked me so nice that 
 I never was so glad of doing anything in my life !• 
 
 "But flowers die so soon, and then she would never 
 
106 A BASKET OF FLOWERS. 
 
 have nothin' to keep to make her feel that we'd bin thinkin' 
 of her!'' 
 
 An anxious shade fell over Nettie Blane's face, that, how- 
 ever, instantly brightened with a new thought. 
 
 " Oh, yes, she would," she said, " because she'd always 
 remember ! Don't you know, somehow, if you once get a 
 thing, you've always got it, even if you don't see it ? If I 
 sell my shells, it don't much matter, really, because when- 
 ever I think about them, they'll always be in my heart, 
 and I'll always know that Uncle Jim he brought them 
 to me over the sea ! M 
 
 Some one murmured, li Things ought to be awful pretty 
 to be remembered always !" and the general consent 
 seemed to settle without dispute that a basket of flowers 
 would be the very sweetest thing in the world to give. 
 
 " And I know of a man who keeps a hot-house just out 
 of town," said the young President, " and he looks good- 
 humored and kind, so maybe he'll give us something real 
 nice for what we'll have to pay!" And soon after the 
 meeting dispersed. 
 
 The day before Christmas, as the big, burly and rosy 
 owner of the conservatory just out of town was sorting his 
 choicest blooms for a large wedding which was to take 
 place in the evening, the door of the hot-house suddenly 
 opened, and a squadron of a dozen or more small girls en- 
 tered in solemn procession. 
 
 " Bless my soul !" said the Gentle Giant, turning his 
 bluff, bright face toward them, " what do you young ones 
 want V 
 
 For an instant they had stood quite still, looking about 
 them in wonder and delight ; for the whole place was so 
 rilled with rare and lovely blossoms that its atmosphere, 
 color, and profusion was like a concentration of the tropics. 
 
 " If you please, sir, we want to buy a basket of flowers." 
 
 The man dropped the two or three buds he held in his 
 hand, turned entirely around, and gave one steady look 
 
A BASKET OF FLOWERS. 107 
 
 down the whole line ; he saw at once that they were not 
 likely to want flowers for themselves, and imagined that 
 one or two had been sent on a message, and that the rest 
 had accompaDied these. 
 
 " Fo^-— want — to — buy " — he said slowly. 
 
 " Yes, sir, a basket of flowers, if you please." 
 
 " Who for ? and why are there so many of you ?" 
 
 11 Well, sir, I'll tell you. Tou see, sir, there's a dear 
 kind lady, and she is a cripple, and never gets off a low 
 kind of bed she lays on, and works all the time the most 
 beautiful 'broidering flowers you ever seen. Aud she 
 teaches us ; so we thought we'd like to give her a Christ- 
 mas present, and we've all saved up till we think we've got 
 enough ; and because she never can go out to see anything 
 a-growing, and just loves flowers like they were alive, we 
 made up our minds to take her some ; because we all give 
 something toward it we all came together about it j and if 
 you please, sir, we'd like as nice a basketful as you can 
 make up for our money." 
 
 The rosy face bloomed out bright as one of his own 
 blossoms; the round eyes grew wonderfully soft and 
 moist, as the big burly man stooped and kissed the small 
 speaker, and said, with just a touch of huskiness in his 
 voice : 
 
 " Well, you're a blessed little party ! You just go round, 
 all of you, and pick out what you'd like to have, and I'll 
 fix them up for you !" There was anim mediate stir in the 
 young procession, and evident delight in this permission, 
 and an intention to put it instantly into practice, when the 
 Small Leader called out, " You keep still there, will you ? 
 I've got something else to say!" 
 
 Curiosity restored order, and she again addressed the 
 gardener. 
 
 " Ain't those grand flowers very dear ? You see, sir, we 
 don't want anything we can't pay for ail right. We've got 
 this much money j please to count it, sir, and see if it will 
 
108 A BASKET OF FLOWERS. 
 
 do !" ADd she handed hira a rather battered tin match- 
 box containing the accumulated contributions in small 
 coins, as they had been gradually brought in as they were 
 gaiued. 
 
 The Big Gardener by this time was too much touched to 
 keep quite calm. " Here," he said to the Little Leader, 
 " you count out this money, and tell me how much it is, 
 and I'll do the best I can for it !" And when he took a 
 basket and went round his hot-house collecting here and 
 there his simplest blooms, all these keen eyes watched him 
 in unbroken silence, and not one of them stirred a gaze 
 from his fingers as he laid in the moss, propped a superb, 
 stainless lily in the centre, and arranged round it with ex- 
 quisite taste violets and heart's-ease, and delicate, pure 
 blossoms; in breathless quiet they noted every flower that 
 was woven into its place, little thinking that these com- 
 moner plants which they were used to see in summer were 
 almost as costly as foreign growths in winter; and it was 
 not till the whole was finished that they broke out into 
 exclamations of satisfaction. 
 
 " This must be a mighty good woman to make you love 
 her so 1" said the man as he handed over the basket to the 
 careful hold of the Little Leader. 
 
 " Good !" answered Nettie Blane, " she's a-most an 
 angel ; it seems like she ought never to do anything but 
 stand up close to the Throne with just such lilies in her 
 hand !" 
 
 For Nettie's inmost heart was stirred by the flowers and 
 the occasion. 
 
 The Big Gardener looked at her a second as if he 
 thought she might have been a stray cherub herself. 
 
 " That's all your own gift," he said, pointing to the lily- 
 crowned basket ; " but would you mind taking her a little 
 present from me too V 7 
 
 " It shall only be one flower," he said ; and as a single 
 flower in their inexperienced eyes could not possibly com- 
 
MAHSR JOHN. 109 
 
 pare with a basketful, a happy assent was immediately 
 given. 
 
 He went round among his plants to where bloomed one 
 magnificent blossom, the only one of its kind in the green- 
 house. He broke it from the stalk, and placed it in 
 Nettie Blane's hand. " Oh, thank you !" said Nettie's glad 
 voice, " I will give it to her with your compliments." And 
 then the Big Gardener kissed every one of them as they 
 passed out, and stood at his hot-house door, and watched 
 the little procession as it wound out of sight with the 
 Little Leader at the head, carrying the Basket of Flowers. 
 
 MAHSR JOHN. 
 
 IRWIN RUSSELL. 
 
 From Scribner's Monthly. 
 
 I heahs a heap o' people talkin', ebrywhar I goes, 
 'Bout Washintnm an' Franklum, an' seen genuses as dose : 
 I s'pose dey's mighty fine, but heah's de p'int I's bettin' on — 
 Dere wuzn't nar a one ob 'em come up to Mahsr John. 
 
 He shorely wuz de grates' man de country ebber growed — 
 Tou better had git out de way when he come 'long de road ! 
 He hel' his head up dis way, lik' he 'spised to see de groun' ; 
 An' niggers had to toe de mark when Mahsr John wuz 'roun'. 
 
 I only has to shet my eyes, an' den it seems to me 
 I sees him right afore me now, jes' like he use' to be, 
 A-settin' on de gal'ry lookin' awful big an' wise, 
 "Wid little niggers fannin' him to keep away de flies. 
 
 He alluz wore de berry bes' ob planters' linen suits, 
 
 An' kep' a nigger busy jus' a-blackin' ob his boots; 
 
 De buckles on his galluses wuz made of solid gol', 
 
 An' diamon's !— dey wuz in his shu't as thick as it would hoi'. 
 
 Tou heered me ! 'twas a caution, when he went to take a ride, 
 To see him in de kerridge, wid ol' Mistis.by his side — 
 
110 DADDY FLICK'S SPREE. 
 
 Mulatter Bill a-dribin', an' a nigger on behin' ; 
 
 An' two Kaintucky bosses tuk 'em tearin' whar dey gwine. 
 
 01' Mabsr Jobn wuz pow'ful rieb— be owned a beap o' Ian' ; 
 Fibe cotton places, 'sides a sugar place in Loozyan' ; 
 He bad a thousan' nigger — an' bo worked 'ern shore's you born ! 
 De oberseabs ud start 'ein at de breakin' ob de morn. 
 
 Sometimes be'd gib a frolic— dat's de time you seed de fun ; 
 De 'ristocratic fam'lies, dey ud be dar, ebry one , 
 Dey'd bab a band from New Orleans to play for 'em to dance, 
 An' tell you what, de supper wuz a 'tickler sarcumstance. 
 
 "Well, times is changed ! De war it come an' sot de niggers free, 
 An' now ol' Mabsr Jobn ain't hardly wuf as mucb as me; 
 He bad to pay bis debts, an' so bis Ian' is mos'ly gone — 
 An' I declar' I's sorry for pore ol' Mabsr Jobn. 
 
 But when I heab 'em talkin' 'bout some sullybrated man, 
 I listens to 'em quiet, till dey done said all dey can, 
 An' den I 'lows dot in dem days, 'at I remembers on, 
 Dat gemman warn't a patchin' onto my ol' Mabsr Jobn I 
 
 DADDY FLICK'S SPREE. 
 
 D. L. PROUDFIT. 
 
 Daddy Flick was a queer old Dick, 
 
 Trudging along with a crooked stick, 
 
 Frowsy and dirty and tattered and torn, 
 
 "Wearing a bat that a goat would scorn 
 
 To nibble at, it was so forlorn; 
 
 And I state, with a solemn regard for truth, 
 
 That a garment must be in a state of ruth, 
 
 A very unsavory species of game, 
 
 If an up-town goat will reject the same. 
 
 He ^vas gray as a badger and old as a crow, 
 
 And his eyes were queer— well, beery, you know, 
 
 Bleached and weak — and he had, I suppose, 
 
 The most absurd and peculiar nose 
 
DADDY FLICK'S SPREE. Ill 
 
 That ever invited a passer-by 
 To thiuk of the worth of sobriety, 
 taught can I say in his praise, I wot. 
 Kespectable ? Honest ? Oh, certainly not ! 
 Most people called him a wretched old sot. 
 Only a beggar. He used to stand, 
 Day by day, with his hat in his hand. 
 Asking for pence from the grave and the gay, 
 And getting them, too, I am glad to say, 
 Not in abundance, but just enough 
 For a little bread, and more of the stuff 
 That went to nourish his curious nose 
 And keep it blooming, a full-blown rose. 
 " Life," he said, " for the rich or poor, 
 Means but the same— endure, endure ! 
 Troubles to poor and rich befall, 
 But the bottle," he said, "is a friend to all." 
 
 Now that you know the old reprobate, 
 Beggar, dishonest, inebiiate, 
 All that he asks, sir, of you or me 
 Is a little measure of charity. 
 
 For twenty years he had been the same, 
 
 Till at last the usual period came 
 
 "When age began to assert itself, 
 
 And threatened to lay him upon the shelf, 
 
 And parties said in that part of the town, 
 
 That the poor old sinner was breaking down, 
 
 When all at once he seemed to be 
 
 Displaying a greater activity — 
 
 Begging with more than his usual vim, 
 
 And, what was entirely new for him, 
 
 Picking up jobs, and inquiring, too, 
 
 For any work he could find to do. 
 
 People said it was strange, if true, 
 
 When they heard a rumor to that effect — 
 
 A change impossible to expect. 
 
 It seemed, you perceive, anomalous 
 
 That Flick should be turning industrious. 
 
112 DADDY FLICK'S SPREE. 
 
 But so it was ; if you'll listen well, 
 The bottom facts of the case I'll tell. 
 
 Flick, for seventy years to date, 
 
 Had never thought to be bothering fate ; 
 
 Had been contented to barely live, 
 
 Caring for nothing the world can give— 
 
 A sort of philosopher, as I think, 
 
 In seeking for naught but his meat and drink ; 
 
 But, mind you, never a notion had he 
 
 Of any claim to philosophy. 
 
 The greatest and wisest have one soft streak, 
 And so at the last Flick showed up weak. 
 He said to himself on a certain day, 
 " Daddy Flick, you are old and gray, 
 Likely to drop off any day. 
 Before your coffin is lowered down, 
 Or, what is worse, you go on the town, 
 Ton ought to have, as it seems to me, 
 One good old-fashioned, expensive spree." 
 
 Alas, I fear that my readers all 
 
 Are disappointed at such a fall. 
 
 I wish he had felt a higher call, 
 
 Something of nobler and healthier tone — 
 
 An aspiration with more backbone. 
 
 But I told you before that the poor old rat 
 
 Had never a virtue beneath his hat. 
 
 (I must tell my stories as they befall ; 
 
 If you don't like 'em don't read 'em, that's all.) 
 
 After a couple of months had passed 
 Daddy Flick had at length amassed 
 A sum sufficient, he thought, to see 
 His way to that same old-fashioned spree. 
 And so, one night as he paddled home, 
 He said to himself that the time had come 
 And, cackling over an ancient song, 
 He jingled his cash as he went along. 
 
DADDY FLICK'S SPREE. 113 
 
 "What -were his assets ¥ A marvelous sum ; 
 Enough to purchase unlimited rum — 
 (Listen, you who collect your rents !) 
 About a dollar and fifty cents. 
 
 Passing along by a vacant lot 
 
 (The name of the street I have clean forgot), 
 
 A very diminutive boy he spied, 
 
 Slouching a very tall fence beside : 
 
 A lonesome figure, so woe-begone, 
 
 So desolate-looking and haggard and wan, 
 
 That even Flick in his callous heart 
 
 Felt a movement of pity start. 
 
 Ragged he was, and exceedingly small, 
 
 "With garments that covered him, that was all ; 
 
 A cap remarkable after its kind, 
 
 "With front dismantled and baggy behind ; 
 
 Shoes too big by about a mile, 
 
 But gaping wide with a frightful smile, 
 
 As though they laughed at the tiny feet 
 
 That dragged such a burden along the street. 
 
 He stood there listless and weary and worn, 
 
 Hands in his pockets, alone and forlorn ; 
 
 His features stained with the dirty streaks 
 
 Of the tears that had dried on his little cheeks. 
 
 Flick was none of your tender sort ; 
 
 Philanthropy never had been his forte ; 
 
 But the look of the child was so woefully sad 
 
 That he stopped and spoke to the little lad, 
 
 And got the stoiy I'll tell to you, 
 
 Since it only requires a line or two : 
 
 His mother had died in a drunken fit, 
 
 He was hungry, and that was the whole of it. 
 
 Flick, as you know, was all primed for a spree ; 
 All the same he said, " Come with me!" 
 And took the child to his narrow den, 
 And fed him and kept him that night, and then, 
 To cut it short, he put up the tin 
 
114 THE BALLAD OP BABIE BELL. 
 
 He had labored so long and so hard to -win, 
 And started the boy in the paper trade, 
 "Where he prospered well, and a living made. 
 
 Then Flick returned to his ancient ways, 
 
 And loafed and begged through the listless days; 
 
 Cracking, by way of amusing folk, 
 
 An occasional rummy and senile joke ; 
 
 But what is the funniest thing to me, 
 
 He always thought he had had that spree, 
 
 And bragged about it to every one 
 
 That for once in his life he had had some fan. 
 
 THE BALLAD OF BABIE BELL. 
 
 T. B. ALDEICH. 
 
 Have you not heard the poets tell 
 How came the dainty Babie Bell 
 
 Into this world of ours ? 
 The gates of heaven were left ajar ; 
 "With folded hands and dreamy eyes, 
 "Wandering out of Paradise, 
 She saw this planet, like a star, 
 
 Hung in the glistening depths of even- 
 Its bridges running to and fro, 
 O'er which the white- winged angels go, 
 
 Bearing the holy dead to heaven. 
 She touched a bridge of flowers— those feet, 
 So light they did not bend the bells 
 Of the celestial asphodels ! 
 They fell like dew upon the flowers, 
 Then all the air grew strangely sweet — 
 And thus came dainty Babie Bell 
 
 Into this world of ours. 
 She came and brought delicious May. 
 
 The swallows built beneath the eaves ; 
 
 Like sunlight in and out the leaves, 
 
THE BALLAD OF BABIE BELL. 115 
 
 The robins went the livelong day ; 
 
 The lily swung its noiseless bell, 
 
 And o'er the porch the trembling vine 
 Seemed bursting with its veins of wine. 
 
 How sweetly, softly, twilight fell ! 
 
 Oh, earth was full of singing-birds, 
 
 And opening spring-tide flowers, 
 
 "When the dainty JBabie Bell 
 
 Came to this world of ours ! 
 
 Babie, dainty Babie Bell, 
 How fair she grew from day to day ! 
 "What woman-nature filled her eyes, 
 What poetry within them lay ! 
 Those deep and tender twilight eyes, 
 
 So full of meaning, pure and bright, 
 
 As if she yet stood in the light 
 Of those ope ; d gates of Paradise. 
 And so we loved her more and more ; 
 Ah, never in our hearts before 
 
 "Was love so lovely born : 
 "We felt we had a link between 
 This real world and that unseen — 
 
 The land beyond the morn. 
 And for the love of those dear eyes, 
 For love of her whom God led forth 
 (The mother's being ceased on earth 
 "When Babie came from Paradise) — 
 For love of Him who smote our lives, 
 
 And woke the chords of joy and pain, 
 "We said, Dear Christ ! — our hearts bent down 
 
 Like violets after ram. 
 
 And now the orchards, which were white 
 And red with blossoms when she came, 
 "Were rich in autumn's mellow prime. 
 The clustered apples burnt like flame, 
 The soft-cheeked peaches blushed and fell, 
 The ivory chestnut burst its shell, 
 The grapes hung purpling in the grange ; 
 
116 THE BALLAD OF BABIE BELL. 
 
 And time wrought just as rich a change 
 
 In little Babie Bell. 
 Her lissome iorm more perfect grew, 
 
 And in her features we could trace, 
 
 In softened curves, her mother's face ! 
 Her angel-nature ripened too. 
 We thought her lovely when she came, 
 But she was holy, saintly now— 
 Around her pale, angelic brow 
 "We saw a slender riug of flame. 
 God's hand had taken away the seal 
 
 That held the portals of her speech ; 
 And oft she said a few strange words 
 
 Whose meaning lay beyond our reach. 
 She never was a child to us, 
 We never held her being's key, 
 We could not teach her holy thmgs ; 
 
 She was Christ's self in purity. 
 
 It came upon us by degrees ; 
 
 We saw its shadow ere it fell, 
 
 The knowledge that our G-od had sent 
 
 His messenger for Babie Bell. 
 
 We shuddered with unlanguaged pain, 
 
 And all our hopes were changed to fears, 
 
 And all our thoughts ran into tears 
 
 Like sunshine into ram. 
 We cried aloud in our belief, 
 "Oh, smite us gently, gently, God! 
 Teach us to bend and kiss the rod, 
 And perfect grow through grief." 
 Ah, how we loved her, God can tell ; 
 Her heart was folded deep m ours, 
 
 Our hearts are broken, Babie Bell ! 
 
 At last he came, the messenger, 
 
 The messenger from unseen lands : 
 And what did dainty Babie Bell? 
 She only crossed her little hands, 
 She only looked more meek and fan* ! 
 
AUX ITALIENS. 117 
 
 We parted back her silken hair, 
 "We wove the roses round her brow — 
 "White buds, the summer's drifted snow — 
 Wrapt her from head to foot in flowers ; 
 And then went dainty Babie Bell 
 Out of this world of ours ! 
 
 AUX ITALIENS. 
 
 OWEN MEREDITH. 
 
 AT THE ITALIAN OPERA. 
 
 At Paris it was, at the Opera there ; 
 
 And she looked like a queen in a book, that night, 
 With the wreath of pearl in her raven hair, 
 
 And the brooch on her breast, so bright. 
 
 Of all the operas that Yerdi wrote, 
 The best, to my taste, is the Trovatore ; 
 
 And Mario can soothe with a tenor note 
 The souls in purgatory. 
 
 The moon on the tower slept soft as snow ; 
 
 And who was not thrilled in the strangest way, 
 As we heard him sing, while the gas burned low, 
 
 u Non ti scordar di me f 
 
 The Emperor there, in his box of state, 
 Looked grave, as if he had just then seen 
 
 The red flag wave from the city- gate, 
 Where his eagles in bronze had been. 
 
 The Empress, too, had a tear in her eye. 
 
 You'd have .-said that her fancy had gone back again, 
 For one moment, under the old blue sky, 
 
 To the old glad hie in Spam. 
 
 Well ! there in our front-row box we sat 
 
 Together, my bride- betrothed and I ; 
 My gaze was fixed on my opera-hat, 
 
 And hers on the stage hard by. 
 
118 AUX ITALIENS. 
 
 Aud both were silent, and both were sad. 
 
 Like a queen, she leaned on her full white arm, 
 "With that regal, indolent air she had ; 
 
 So confident of her charm ! 
 
 I have not a doubt she was thinking then 
 Of her former lord, good soul that he was ! 
 
 "Who died the richest and roundest of men, 
 The Marquis of Carabas. 
 
 I hope that, to get to the kingdom of heaven, 
 Through a needle's eye he had not to pass ; 
 
 I wish him well for the jointure given 
 To my lady of Carabas. 
 
 Meanwhile I was thinking of my first love, 
 As I had not been thinking of aught for years, 
 
 Till over my eyes there began to move 
 Something that felt like tears. 
 
 I thought of the dress that she wore last time, 
 When we stood, 'neath the cypress-trees, together, 
 
 In that lost land, in that soft clime, 
 In the crimson evening weather ; 
 
 Of that muslin dress (for the eve was hot), 
 And her warm white neck in its golden chain. 
 
 And her full, soft hair, just tied in a knot, 
 And falling loose again; 
 
 And the jasmin-flower in her fair young breast ; 
 
 Oh, the faint, sweet smell of that jasmin-flower, 
 And the one bird singing alone to his nest, 
 
 And the one star over the tower. 
 
 I thought of our little quarrels and strife, 
 And the letter that brought me back my ring, 
 
 And it all seemed then, in the waste of life, 
 Such a very little thing ! 
 
 For I thought of her grave below the hill, 
 "Which the sentinel cypress-tree stands over. 
 
 And I thought .... "were she only living still, 
 How I could forgive her and love her !" 
 
AUX IT ALIENS. lliJ 
 
 And I swear, as I thought of her thus, in that hour, 
 And of how, after all, old things were best, 
 
 That I smelt the smell of that jasmin-flower, 
 "Which she used to wear in her breast. 
 
 It smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet, 
 
 It made me creep, and it made me cold ! 
 Like the scent that steals from the crumbling sheet 
 
 When a mummy is half unrolled. 
 
 And I turned and looked. She was sitting there 
 
 In a dim box, over the stage ; and drest 
 In that muslin dress, with that full soft hair, 
 
 And that jasmin in her breast ! 
 
 I was here, and she was there, 
 
 And the glittering horseshoe curved between — 
 From my bride-betrothed, with her raven hair, 
 
 And her sumptuous, scornful mien. 
 
 To my early love, with her eyes downcast, 
 
 And over her primrose face the shade 
 (In short, from the Future back to the Past), 
 
 There was but one step to be made. 
 
 To my early love from my future bride 
 One moment I looked. Then I stole to the door, 
 
 I traversed the passage ; and down at her side 
 I was sitting, a moment more. 
 
 My thinking of her, or the music's strain, 
 Or something which never will be exprest, 
 
 Had brought her back from the grave again, 
 With the jasmin in her breast. 
 
 She is not dead, and she is not wed ! 
 
 But she loves me now, and she loved me then ! 
 And the very first word that her sweet lips said, 
 
 My heart grew youthful again. 
 
 The Marchioness there, of Oarabas, 
 She is wealthy, and young, and handsome still, 
 
 And but for her well, we'll let that pass- 
 She may marry whomever she will. 
 
120 BBEITMABTN IN MARYLAND. 
 
 But I will many my own first love, 
 With her primrose face ; for old things are best, 
 
 And the flower in her bosom, I prize it above 
 The brooch in my lady's breast. 
 
 The world is filled with folly and sin, 
 And Love mnst cling where it can, I say ; 
 
 For Beauty is easy enough to win, 
 But one isn't loved every day. 
 
 And I think, in the lives of most women and men, 
 There's a moment when all would go smooth and even, 
 
 If only the dead could find out when 
 To come back and be forgiven. 
 
 But oh, the smell of that jasmin-flower ! 
 And oh, that music ! and oh, the way 
 That voice rang out from the donjon tower, 
 
 Non ti scordar di me, 
 
 Non ti scordar di me / 
 
 BREITMANN IN MARYLAND. 
 
 Der Breitmann mit his gompany 
 
 Rode out in Marylandt. 
 " Dere's nichts to trink in dis countrie ; 
 
 Mine troat's as dry as fand. 
 It's light canteen und haversack, 
 
 It's hoonger mixed mit doorst; 
 Und if we had some lager-bier 
 
 I'd trink oontil I boorst. 
 Gling, glang, gloria! 
 
 "We'd trink oontil we boorst. 
 
 " Herr Leut'nant, take a dozen men, 
 
 Und ride dis land around ! 
 Herr Feldwebel, go foragin' 
 
 Dill somedings goot is found. 
 Gotts-doonder ! men, go ploonder ! 
 
 We hafn't trinked a bit 
 
BItEITMANN IN MARYLAND. 121 
 
 Dis fonrdeen hours ! If I had bier 
 I'd sauf oontil I shplit ! 
 Gling, glang, gloria ! 
 "We'd sauf ooutil we shplit !" 
 
 At mittemacht a horse's hoofs 
 
 Coom rattlin' troo de camp ; 
 " Kouse dere ! — cooui rouse der house dere ! 
 
 Herr Copitaiu— we moost tromp ! 
 De scouds have found a repel town, 
 
 Mit repel davern near, 
 A repel keller in de cround, 
 
 Mit repel lager bier ! 
 Gling, glang, gloria! 
 
 All fool of lager bier ! 
 Gottsdonnerkreuzschockschwerenoth! 
 
 How Breitmann broked de bush ! 
 " let me see dat lager bier ! 
 
 let me at him rash ! 
 TJnd is mein sabre sharp uud true, 
 
 Und is mein war-horse goot ? 
 To get one quart of lager bier 
 
 I'd shpill a sea of ploot. 
 Gling, glang, gloria ! 
 
 I'd shpill a sea of ploot. 
 " Fuenf hoonderd repels hold de down, 
 
 One hunderd strong are we ; 
 Who gares a tarn for all de odds 
 
 When men so dirsty pe ?" 
 And in dey smashed and down dey crashed, 
 
 Like donder-polts dey fly, 
 Rush fort as der wild yeeger cooms 
 
 Mit blitzen troo de shky. 
 Gling, glang, gloria ! 
 
 Like blitzen troo de shky. 
 
 How flewed to rite, how flewed to left 
 
 De moundains, drees unt hedge ; 
 How left und rite de yseger corps 
 
 "Went donderin troo de pridge. 
 
122 BREITMANN IX MARYLAND. 
 
 Und splash und splosh dey ford dc shtream 
 Where not some pridges pe : 
 
 All dripplin' in de moondlight peam 
 Stracks went de cavallrie ! 
 
 Gling, glang, gloria! 
 Der Breitmann's cavallrie ! 
 
 Und hoory, hoory on dey rote, 
 
 Oonheedin' vet or try ; 
 Und horse und rider shnort und blowed, 
 
 Und shparklin' bepples fly. 
 Eopp ! ropp ! I shmell de barley-prew ! 
 
 Dere's somedings goot ish near. 
 Eopp ! Eopp !— I scent de kneiperei ; 
 
 We've got to lager bier ! 
 Gling, glang, gloria ! 
 
 We've got to lager bier ! 
 
 Hei ! how de carpine pullets klinged 
 
 Oopon de helmets hart ! 
 Oh, Breitmann— how dy sabre ringed ; 
 
 Du alter Knasterbart ! 
 De contrapands dey sing for choy 
 
 To see de rebs go down, 
 Und hear der Breitmann grimly gry : 
 
 Hoorah ! — we've dook de down. 
 Gling, glang, gloria ! 
 Victoria, victoria! 
 
 De Dootch have dook de down. 
 
 Mid shout and crash and sabre flash, 
 
 And wild husaren shout, 
 De Dootchmen boorst de keller in, 
 
 Und rolled de lager out ; 
 And in the coorlin powder shmoke, 
 
 While shtill de pullets sung, 
 Bere shtood der Breitmann, axe in hand, 
 
 A-knockin' out de boong. 
 Gling, glang, gloria ! 
 Victoria! Encoria! 
 
 De shpicket beats de boong. 
 
" MORNING ARGUS" OBITUARY DEPARTMENT. U3 
 
 Gotts ! vot a shpree der Breitmann had 
 
 While yet his hand was red, 
 A-trinkin' lager from his poots 
 
 Among de repel tead. 
 'Twas dus dey went at mitternight 
 
 Along der moundain side ; 
 'Twas dns dey help make history ! 
 Dis was der Breitmann's ride. 
 Gling, glang, gloria ; 
 Victoria ! Yictoria ! 
 Cer'visia, encoria? 
 De treadful mitnight ride 
 Of Breitmann's wild Freischarlinger, 
 All famous, broad, und wide. 
 
 "THE MORNING ARGUS" OBITUARY DEPART- 
 
 AliiiJN L . MAX ADELER. 
 
 A rather unusual sensation has been excited in the vil- 
 lage by The Morning Argus within a day or two; and 
 while most of the readers of that wonderful sheet have 
 thus been supplied with amusement, the soul of the editor 
 has been filled with gloom and wrath and despair. Colonel 
 Bangs recently determined to engage an assistant to take 
 the place made vacant by the retirement of the eminent 
 art-critic, Mr. Murphy, and he found in one of the lower 
 counties of the State a person who appeared to him to be 
 suitable. The name of the new man is Slimmer. 
 
 When Mr. Slimmer arrived, and entered upon the per- 
 formance of his duties, Colonel Bangs explained his theory 
 to the poet, and suggested that whenever a death-notice 
 reached the office, he should immediately write a rhyme or 
 two which should express the sentiments most suitable to 
 the occasion. 
 
 Mr. Slimmer had charge of the editorial department the 
 next day, during the absence of Colonel Bangs in Wilming- 
 ton. Throughout the afternoon and evening death-notices 
 
lX>4 u MORNING AKGUS" OBITUARY DEPARTMENT. 
 
 arrived ; and when one would reach Mr. Slhnmer's desk, 
 he would lock the door, place the tinge rs of his left hand 
 among his hair, and agonize until he succeeded in com- 
 pleting a verse that seemed to him to accord with his in- 
 structions. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Slimmer proceeded calmly to the 
 office for the purpose of embalming in sympathetic verse 
 the memories of other departed ones. As he came near to 
 the establishment he observed a crowd of people in front 
 of it, struggling to get into the door. Ascending some 
 steps upon the other side of the street, he overlooked the 
 crowd, and could see within the office the clerks selling 
 papers as fast as they could handle them, while the mob 
 pushed and yelled in frantic efforts to obtain copies, the 
 presses in the cellar meanwhile clanging furiously. Stand- 
 ing upon the curbstone in front of the office, there was a 
 long row of men, each of whom was engaged in reading 
 The Morning Argus, with an earnestness that Mr. Slim- 
 mer had never before seen displayed by the patrons of 
 that sheet. The bard concluded that either his poetry 
 had touched a sympathetic chord in the popular heart, or 
 that an appalling disaster had occurred in some quarter of 
 the globe. 
 
 He went round to the back of the office and ascended to 
 the editorial rooms. As he approached the sanctum, loud 
 voices were heard within. Mr. Slimmer determined to 
 ascertain the cause before entering. He obtained a chair, 
 and placing it by the side door, he mounted it and peeped 
 over the door through the transom. There sat Colonel 
 Bangs, holding The Morning Argus in both hands, while 
 the fringe which grew in a semi-circle around the edge of 
 his bald head stood straight out, until he seemed to resem- 
 ble a gigantic gun-swab. Two or three persons stood in 
 front of him in threatening attitudes. Slimmer heard one 
 of them say : 
 
 "My name is McGlue, sir! William McGlue! lama 
 
 
u MORNING ARGUS" OBITUARY DEPARTMENT. 125 
 
 brother of the late Alexander McGlue. I picked up your 
 paper this morning, and perceived in it an outrageous insult 
 to my deceased relative, and I have come around to demand, 
 sir, what you mean by the following infamous language : 
 " ' The death-angel smote Alexander McGlue, 
 
 And gave him protracted repose ; 
 He wore a checked shirt and a number nine shoe, 
 
 And he had a pink wart on his nose. 
 No doubt he is happier dwelling in space, 
 
 Over there on the evergreen shore. 
 His Mends are informed that his funeral takes place 
 Precisely at quarter past four.' 
 
 " This is simply diabolical ! My late brother had no 
 wart on his nose, sir. He had upon his nose neither a 
 pink wart nor a green wart, nor a cream-colored wart, nor 
 a wart of any other color. It is a slander ! It is a gratu- 
 itous insult to my family, and I distinctly want you to say 
 what do you mean by such conduct V } 
 
 11 Really, sir,-'' said Bangs, " it is a mistake. This is the 
 horrible work of a miscreant in whom I reposed perfect 
 confidence. He shall be punished by my own hand for 
 this outrage. A pink wart ! Awful ! sir— awful ! The 
 miserable scoundrel shall suffer for this — he shall, indeed !" 
 
 " How could I know," murmured Mr. Slimmer, to the 
 foreman, who with him was listening, " that the corpse 
 hadn't a pink wart? I used to know a man named 
 McGlue, and he had one, and I thought all the McGlues 
 had. This comes of irregularities in families." 
 
 " And who," said another man, addressing the editor, 
 authorized you to print this hideous stuff about my de- 
 ceased son ? Do you mean to say, Baugs, that it is not 
 with your authority that your low comedian inserted with 
 my advertisement the following scandalous burlesque? 
 Listen to this : 
 
 u ' "Willie had a purple monkey climbing on a yellow stick, 
 And when he sucked the paint all off it made him deathly sick ; 
 
126 " MORNING ARGUS" OBITUARY DEPARTMENT. 
 
 And in his latest hours he clasped that monkey in his hand, 
 And bade good-bye to earth and went into a better land. 
 
 " ' Oh, no more he'll shoot his sister with his little wooden gun ; 
 And no more he'll twist the pussy's tail and make her yowl, for fun. 
 The pussy's tail now stands out straight ; the gun is laid aside ; 
 The monkey doesn't jump around since little Willie died.' 
 
 " The atrocious character of this libel will appear when 
 I say that rny son was twenty years old, and that he died 
 of liver complaint." 
 
 " Infamous ! utterly infamous !" groaned the editor, as 
 he cast his eyes over the lines. " And the wretch who 
 did this still remains unpunished ! It is too much !" 
 
 "And yet," whispered Slimmer to the foreman, "he 
 told me to lighten the gloom and to cheer the afflicted 
 family with the resources of my art; and I certainly 
 thought that idea about the monkey would have that effect, 
 somehow. Bangs is ungrateful !" 
 
 Just then there was a knock at the door, and a woman 
 entered, crying. 
 
 " Are you the editor?" she inquired of Colonel Bangs. 
 
 Bangs said he was. 
 
 "W-w-well!" she said in a voice broken by sobs, 
 " wh-what d'you mean by publishing this kind of poetry 
 about my child ? M-my name is Sm-Smith ; and wh-when 
 Hooked this m-morning for the notice of Johnny's d-death 
 in your paper, I saw this scandalous verse : 
 
 •' ' Four doctors tackled Johnny Smith — 
 
 They blistered and they bled him ; 
 With squills and anti -bilious pills 
 
 And ipecac they fed him. 
 They stirred him up with calomel, 
 
 And tried to move his liver ; 
 But all in vain — his little soul 
 
 Was wafted o'er the Kiver.' 
 
 "It's false! false! and mean! Johnny only had one 
 
" MORNING ARGUS" OBITUARY DEPARTMENT. 127 
 
 doctor. And they d-didn't bl-bleed and bl-blister liim. 
 It's a wicked falsehood, and you're a hard-hearted brute 
 f-f-for printing it !" 
 
 " Madam, I shall go crazy !" exclaimed Bangs. " This 
 is not my work. It is the work of a villain whom I will 
 slay with my own hand as soon as he comes in. Madam, 
 the miserable outcast shall die !" 
 
 " Strange! strange!" said Slimmer. "And this man 
 told me to combine elevated sentiment with practical in- 
 formation. If the information concerning the squills and 
 ipecac is not practical, I have misunderstood the use of 
 that word. And if young Smith didn't have four doctors, 
 it was an outrage. He ought to have had them, and they 
 ought to have excited his liver. Thus it is that human 
 life is sacrificed to carelessness." 
 
 While the poet mused, hurried steps were heard upon 
 the stairs, and in a moment a middle-aged man dashed in 
 abruptly, and seizing the colonel's scattered hair, bumped 
 his prostrate head against the table three or four times 
 with considerable force. Having expended the violence 
 of his emotion in this manner, he held the editor's head 
 down with one hand, shaking it occasionally by way of 
 emphasis, and with the other hand seized the paper and 
 said: 
 
 u You disgraceful old reprobate ! Tou disgusting vam- 
 pire ! You hoary-headed old ghoul ! What d'you mean 
 by putting such stuff as this in your paper about my de- 
 ceased son? What d'you mean by printing such awful 
 doggerel as this, you depraved and dissolute ink-slinger — 
 you imbecile quill-driver, you ! 
 
 " 'Oh ! bury Bartholomew out iu the woods, 
 
 In a beautiful hole in the ground, 
 Where the bumble-bees buzz and the woodpeckers sing, 
 
 And the straddle-bugs tumble around ; 
 So that, in winter, when the snow and the slush 
 
 Have covered his last little bed, 
 
128 " MORNING ARGUS" OBITUARY DEPARTMENT. 
 
 His brother Artemus can go out with Jane 
 And visit the place with his sled.' 
 
 " I'll teach you to talk about straddle -bugs ! FU instruct 
 you about slush ! I'll enlighten your insane old intellect 
 on the subject of singing woodpeckers ! What do you know 
 about Jane and Artemus, you wretched buccaneer, you 
 despicable butcher of the English language % Go out with 
 a sled ! I'll carry you out in a hearse before I'm done 
 with you, you deplorable lunatic !" 
 
 At the end of every phrase the visitor gave the editor's 
 head a fresh knock against the table. When the exercise 
 was ended, Colonel Bangs explained and apologized in the 
 humblest manner, promising at the same time to give his 
 assailant a chance to flog Mr. Slimmer, who was expected 
 to arrive in a few moments. 
 
 " The treachery of this man," murmured the poet to the 
 foreman, "is dreadful. Didn't he desire me to throw a 
 glamour of poesy over commonplace details f But for that 
 I should never have thought of alluding to woodpeckers 
 and bugs, and other children of nature. The man objects 
 to the remarks about the sled. Can the idiot know that it 
 was necessary to have a rhyme for ' bed ' I Can he sup- 
 pose that I could write poetry without rhymes ? The man 
 is a lunatic ! He ought not to be at large !" 
 
 The poet determined to leave before any more criticisms 
 were made upon his performances. He jumped down from 
 his chair and crept softly toward the back staircase. 
 
 The story told by the foreman relates that Colonel Bangs 
 at the same instant resolved to escape any further persecu- 
 tion, and he moved off in the direction taken by the poet. 
 The two met upon the landing, and the colonel was about 
 to begin his quarrel with Slimmer, when an enraged old 
 woman who had been groping her way up-stairs suddenly 
 plunged her umbrella at Bangs, and held him in the cor- 
 ner while she handed a copy of the Argus to Slimmer, and 
 pointing to a certain stanza, asked him to read it aloud. 
 
" MORNING ARGUS" OBITUARY DEPARTMENT. 129 
 
 He did so in a somewhat tremulous voice, and with 
 frightened glances at the enraged colonel. The verse was 
 as follows : 
 
 "Little Alexander's dead; 
 
 Jam him in a coffin ; 
 Don't have as good a chance 
 
 For a fun'ral often ; 
 Rush his body right around 
 
 To the cemetery ; 
 Drop him in the sepulchre 
 
 With his Uncle Jerry." 
 
 The colonel's assailant accompanied the recitation with 
 such energetic remarks as these : 
 
 " Oh, you willin ! D'you hear that, you wretch ? What 
 d'you mean by writin' of my grandson in that way ? Take 
 that, you serpint ! Oh, you wiper, you ! tryin' to break a 
 lone widder's heart with such seand'lus lies as them ! 
 There, you willin ! I kemmere to hammer you well with 
 this here umbreller, you owdacious wiper, you ! Take that, 
 and that, you wile, indecent, disgustin' wagabone ! When 
 you know well enough that Aleck never had no Uncle Jerry, 
 and never had no uncle in no sepulchre anyhow, you wile 
 wretch, you!" 
 
 When Mr. Slimmer had concluded his portion of the en- 
 tertainment, he left the colonel in the hands of the enemy 
 arid fled. He has not been seen in New Castle since that 
 day, and it is supposed that he has returned to Sussex 
 county for the purpose of continuing in private his dalli- 
 ance with the Muses. Colonel Bangs appears to have) 
 abandoned the idea of establishing a department of obitu- 
 ary poetry, and the Argus has resumed its accustomed as- 
 pect of dreariness. 
 
 It may fairly boast, however, that once during its 
 career it has produced a profound impression upon the 
 community. 
 
130 SNYDER'S NOSE. 
 
 SNYDER'S NOSE. 
 
 " OCR FAT CONTRIBUTOR." 
 
 Snyder kept a "beer-saloon some years ago " over the 
 Rhine.' 7 Snyder was a ponderous Teuton of very irascible 
 temper — "sudden and quick in quarrel" — get mad in a 
 minute. Nevertheless, his saloon was a great resort for 
 " the hoys " — partly because of the excellence of his beer, 
 and partly because they liked to chafe "old Snyder," as 
 they called him ; for, although his bark was terrific, expe- 
 rience had taught them thafrhe wouldn't bite. 
 
 One day Snyder was missing ; and it was explained by 
 his u frau," who "jerked" the beer that day, that he had 
 " gone out fishing mit der poys." The next day one of the 
 boys, who was particularly fond of u roasting " old Snyder, 
 dropped in to get a glass of beer, and discovered Snyder's 
 nose, which was a big one at any time, swollen and blis- 
 tered by the sun, until it looked like a dead-ripe tomato. 
 
 "Why, Snyder, what's the matter with your nose?" 
 said the caller. 
 
 " I peen out fishing mit der poys," replied Snyder, laying 
 his finger tenderly against his proboscis : " the sun it pese 
 hot like ash never vas, and I purns my nose. Nice nose, 
 don't it V And Snyder viewed it with a look of comical 
 sadness in the little mirror back of his bar. It entered at 
 once into the head of the mischievous fellow in front of the 
 bar to play a joke upon Snyder ; so he went out and col- 
 lected half a dozen of his comrades, with whom he ar- 
 ranged that they should drop in at the saloon one after 
 another, and ask Snyder, " What's the matter with that 
 nose V* to see how long he would stand it. The man who 
 put up the job went in first with a companion, and seating 
 themselves at a table called for beer. Snyder brought it 
 to them j and the new-comer exclaimed as he saw him, 
 " Snyder, what's the matter with your nose ?" 
 
 " I yust dell your iVient here I peen out fishin' mit der 
 
SNYDEE'S NOSE. 131 
 
 poys, unt de sun he purnt 'em — zwi lager — den cents — all 
 right." 
 
 Another hoy rushes in. " Halloo, hoys, you're ahead of 
 me this time ; s'pose I'm in, though. Here, Snyder, "bring 
 me a glass of lager and a pret — " (Appears to catch a 
 sudden glimpse of Snyder's nose, looks wonderingly a mo- 
 ment, and then hursts out laughing.) " Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Why,. Snyder — ha, ha ! — what's the matter with that nose V 
 
 Snyder, of course, can't see any fun in having a burnt 
 nose, or having it laughed at; and he says, in a tone 
 sternly emphatic — 
 
 " I peen out fishin' mit der poys, unt de sun it yust as 
 hot ash blazes, unt I purnt my nose ; dat ish all right." 
 
 Another tormentor comes in, and insists on il setting 'em 
 up " for the whole house. " Snyder," says he, " fill up the 
 boys' glasses, and take a drink yourse — Ho, ho, ho, ho ! 
 ha, ha, ha ! Snyder, wha — ha, ha ! what's the matter 
 with that nose P 
 
 Snyder's brow darkens with wrath by this time, and his 
 voice grows deeper and sterner — 
 
 " I peen out fishin' mit der poys on the Leedle Miami. 
 De sun pese hot like ash — vel, I purn my pugle. Now, dat 
 is more vot I don't got to say. Vot gind o' peseness f Dat 
 ish all right ; I purn my own nose, don't it f " 
 
 " Burn your nose— burn all the hair off your head, for 
 what I care ; you needn't get mad about it." 
 
 It was evident that Snyder wouldn't stand more than 
 one more tweak at that nose ; for he was tramping about 
 behind the bar, and growling like an exasperated old bear 
 in his cage. Another one of his tormentors walks in. Some 
 one sings out to him, " Have a glass of beer, Billy?" 
 
 " Don't care about any beer," says Billy; " but, Snyder, 
 you may give me one of your best ciga — Ha-a-a ! ha, ha, 
 ha ! ho, ho, ho ! he, he, he ! ah-h-h-ha ! ha, ha, ha ! Why — 
 why— Snyder— who — who— ha-ha ! ha ! what's the matter 
 with that nose .?" 
 
132 MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL. 
 
 Snyder was absolutely fearful to behold by this time ; 
 his lace was purple with rage, all except his nose, which 
 glowed like a ball of lire. Leaning his ponderous figure 
 far over the bar, and raising his arm aloft to emphasize 
 his words with it, he fairly roared— 
 
 " I peen out fishin' mit ter poys. The sun it pese hot 
 like ash never vas. I purnt my nose. Now you no like 
 dose nose, you yust take dose nose unt wr-wr-wr- wring 
 your mean American finger mit 'em ! That's the kind of 
 man vot I am !" And Snyder was right. 
 
 MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL. 
 
 J. F. WALLER. 
 
 [Note. — The approximately correct pronunciation of the Spanish names 
 may be indicated, as follows : Sevilla, Seveelya ; Quien Sabe, Kee-en Sabe (a 
 as in father); Caballero, Cavalyaro; Camillo, Cameelyo ; Miguel, Migale; 
 Pedrillo, Pedreelyo ; Be Xymenes y Ribera, Da Zimancs e Eibara ; Y San- 
 tallos y Herrera, E Santalyos e Herrara ; Guzman, Gwtbman ; Y de Hivas y 
 Mendoza, E da Reevas e Mendotha ; Y Quintana y de Rosa, E Keentanya e 
 de Rosas ; Y Zorilla, E Zoreellya.] 
 
 Near the city of Sevilla, 
 Tears and years ago — 
 
 Dwelt a lady in a villa 
 Years and years ago ; 
 And her hair was black as night, 
 And her eyes were starry bright ; 
 Olives on her brow were blooming, 
 Roses red her lips perfuming, 
 And her step was light and airy 
 As the tripping of a fairy ; 
 'When she spoke, yon thought, each rnimite, 
 'Twas the trilling of a linnet ; 
 When she sang, you heard a gush 
 Of full- voiced sweetness like a thrush 
 .And she struck from the guitar 
 Ringing music, sweeter far 
 Than the morning breezes make 
 
OK THE SPANISH DUEL. 133 
 
 Through the lime trees when they shake- 
 Thau the oceau murmuriug o'er 
 Pebbles ou the foamy shore. 
 Orphaued both of sire and mother 
 Dwelt she in that lonely villa, 
 Absent now her guardian brother 
 
 On a mission from Sevilla. 
 Skills it little now the telling 
 
 How I wooed that maiden fair, 
 Tracked her to her lonely dwelling 
 And obtained an entrance there. 
 Ah ! that lady of the villa — 
 
 And I loved her so, 
 Near the city of Sevilla, 
 Tears and years ago. 
 Ay de mi ! — Like echoes falling 
 
 Sweet and sad and low, 
 Voices come at night, recalling 
 Years and years ago. 
 
 Once again I'm sitting near thee, 
 
 Beautiful aud bright ; 
 Once again I see and hear thee 
 
 In the autumn night ; 
 Once again I'm whispering to thee 
 
 Faltering words of love ; 
 Once again with song I woo thee 
 
 In the orange grove 
 Growing near that lonely villa 
 
 "Where the waters flow 
 Down to the city of Sevilla— 
 
 Tears and years ago. 
 
 'Twas an autumn eve ; the splendor 
 
 Of the day was gone, 
 And the twilight, soft and tender, 
 
 Stole so gently on 
 That the eye could scarce discover 
 How the shadows, spreading over, 
 
 Like a veil of silver gray, 
 
134 MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL. 
 
 Toned the golden clouds, sun-painted, 
 Till they paled, and paled, aud tainted 
 
 From the face of heaven away. 
 And a dim light, rising slowly, 
 
 O'er the welkin spread, 
 Till the blue sky, calm and holy, 
 
 Gleamed above our head ; 
 And the thin moon, newly nascent, 
 
 Shone in glory meek and sweet, 
 As Murillo paints her crescent 
 
 Underneath Madonna's feet. 
 And we sat outside the villa 
 
 "Where the waters flow 
 Down to the city of Sevilla — 
 
 Years and years ago. 
 
 There we sate— the mighty river 
 
 "Wound its serpent course along 
 Silent, dreamy Guadalquiver, 
 
 Famed in many a song. 
 Silver gleaming 'mid the plain 
 
 Yellow with the golden grain, 
 Gliding down through deep, rich meadow 
 
 Where the sated cattle rove, 
 Stealing underneath the shadows 
 
 Of the verdant olive grove ; 
 "With its plenitude of waters, 
 
 Ever flowing calm and slow, 
 Loved by Andalusia's daughters, 
 
 Sung by poets long ago . 
 
 Seated half within a bower 
 
 "Where the languid evening breeze 
 
 Shook out odors in a shower 
 
 From oranges and citron trees, 
 
 Sang she from a romancero, 
 
 How a Moorish chieftain bold 
 
 Fought a Spanish caballero 
 By Sevilla's walls of old. 
 
 
MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL. 135 
 
 How they battled for a lady, 
 
 Fairest of the maids of Spain — 
 How the Christian's lance, so steady, 
 
 Pierced the Moslem through the brain. 
 
 Then she ceased — her black eyes moving, . 
 
 Flashed, as asked she with a smile, 
 " Say, are maids as fair and loving — 
 
 Men as faithful, in your isle ?" 
 
 "British maids," I said, "are ever 
 
 Counted fairest of the fair; 
 Like the swans on yonder river 
 
 Moving with a stately air. 
 
 " Wooed not quickly, won not lightly — 
 
 But, when won, forever true ; 
 Trial draws the bend more tightly, 
 
 Time can ne'er the knot undo." 
 
 "And the men V — " Ah ! dearest lady, 
 Are — quien sabe ? who can say ? 
 
 To make love they're ever ready, 
 
 Where they can and where they may ; 
 
 "Fixed as waves, as breezes steady 
 
 In a changeful April day — 
 Como brisas, como rios, 
 
 No se sabe, sabe Dios." 
 
 " Are they faithful ?"— " Ah ! quien sabe ? 
 Who can answer that they are ? 
 While we may we should be happy." 
 
 Then I took up her guitar, 
 And I sang in sportive strain, 
 This song to an old air of Spain. 
 "Qtjten Sabe." 
 I. 
 "The breeze of the evening that cools the hot air, 
 That kisses the orange and shakes out thy hair, 
 Is its freshness less welcome, less sweet its perfume, 
 That you know not the region from which it is come ? 
 
136 MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL. 
 
 Whence the wind blows, where the wind goes, 
 Hither and thither and whither — who knows? 
 
 Who knows ? 
 Hither and thither — hut whither — who knows ? 
 
 II. 
 
 " The river forever glides singing along, 
 
 The rose on the bank bends down to its song ; 
 
 And the flower, as it listens, unconsciously dips, 
 
 Till the rising wave glistens and kisses its lips. 
 
 But why the wave rises and kisses the rose, 
 
 And why the rose stoops for those kisses — who knows % 
 
 Who knows ? 
 And away flows the river— but whither — who knows ? 
 
 III. 
 
 " Let me be the breeze, love, that wanders along 
 The river that ever rejoices in song ; 
 Be thou to my fancy the orange in bloom, 
 The rose by the river that gives its perfurne. 
 "Would the fruit be so golden, so fragrant the rose, 
 If no breeze and no wave were to kiss them ? 
 
 "Who knows ? 
 
 "Who knows ? 
 If no breeze and no wave were to Mss them ? 
 
 "Who knows!" 
 
 As I sang, the lady listened, 
 Silent save one gentle sigh : 
 
 "When I ceased, a tear-drop glistened 
 On the dark fringe of her eye. 
 
 Then my heart reproved the feeling 
 Of that false and heartless strain 
 
 "Which I sang in words concealing 
 "What my heart would hide in vain. 
 
 Up I sprang. "What words were uttered 
 Bootless now to think or tell— 
 
 Tongues speak wild when hearts are fluttered 
 By the mighty master spell. 
 
MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL. 137 
 
 Love, avowed with sudden boldness, 
 Heard with flushings that reveal, 
 
 Spite of woman's studied coldness, 
 Thoughts the heart cannot conceal. 
 
 "Words half- vague and passion-broken, 
 
 Meaningless, yet meaning all 
 That the lips have left unspoken, 
 
 That we never may recall. 
 
 "Magdalena, dearest, hear me/' 
 
 Sighed I, as I seized her hand — 
 "Hola ! Senor," very near me, 
 
 Cries a voice of stern command. 
 
 And a stalwart caballero 
 
 Comes upon me with a stride, 
 On his head a slouched sombrero, 
 
 A toledo by his side. 
 
 From his breast he flung his capa 
 
 "With a stately Spanish air — 
 [On the whole, he looked the chap a 
 
 Man to slight would scarcely dare. ] 
 
 "Will your worship have the goodness 
 
 To release that lady's hand V 
 " Senor," I replied, " this rudeness 
 
 I am not prepared to stand. 
 
 "Magdalena, say" — the maiden, 
 
 "With a cry of wild surprise, 
 As with secret sorrow laden, 
 
 Fainting sank before my eyes. 
 
 Then the Spanish caballero 
 
 Bowed with haughty courtesy, 
 Solemn as a tragic hero, 
 
 And announced himself to me. 
 
 ' "Senor, I am Don Camillo 
 Guzman Miguel Pedrillo 
 De Xymenes y Eibera 
 Y Santallos y Herrera 
 
138 MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL. 
 
 T de Rivas y Mendoza 
 
 Y Quintana y de Rosa 
 
 Y Zorilla y " — " No more, sir, 
 'Tis as good as twenty score, sir," 
 
 Said I to him, with a frown ; 
 " Mucha bulla para nada, 
 No palabras, draw your 'spada; 
 If you're up for a duello 
 You will find I'm just your fellow — 
 
 Senor, I am Peter Brown !" 
 
 By the river's brink that night, 
 
 Foot to foot in strife, 
 Fought we in the dubious light 
 
 A fight of death or life. 
 Don Camillo slashed my shoulder, 
 "With the pain I grew the bolder, 
 
 Close, and closer still I pressed ; 
 Fortune favored me at last, 
 I broke his guard, my weapon passed 
 
 Through the caballero's breast— 
 
 Down to the earth went Don Camillo 
 Guzman Miguel Pedrillo 
 De Xymenes y Ribera 
 
 Y Santallos y Hen-era 
 
 Y de Rivas y Mendoza 
 
 Y Quintana y de Rosa 
 
 Y Zorilla y — One groan, 
 And he lay motionless as stone. 
 
 The man of many names went down, 
 Pierced by the sword of Peter Brown ! 
 
 Kneeling down, I raised his head; 
 The cabellero faintly said, 
 " Senor Ingles, fly from Spain 
 With all speed, for you have slain 
 A Spanish noble, Don Camillo 
 Guzman Miguel Pedrillo 
 De Xymenes y Ribera 
 
 Y Santallos y Herrera 
 
MAGDALENA, OR THE SPANISH DUEL. 139 
 
 T de Kivdfc y Mendoza 
 
 Y Quintana y de Eosa 
 
 T Zorilla y " — He swooned 
 
 "With the bleeding from his wound. 
 
 If he he living still, or dead, 
 
 I never knew, I ne'er shall know. 
 That night from Spain in haste I fled, 
 
 Years and years ago. 
 
 Oft when autumn eve is closing. 
 
 Pensive, puffing a cigar, 
 In my chamber lone reposing, 
 Musing half, and half a-dozing, 
 
 Comes a vision from afar 
 Of that lady of the villa 
 In her satin, fringed mantilla, 
 And that haughty caballero 
 "With his capa and sombrero, 
 Yainly in my mind revolving 
 
 That long, jointed, endless name ; — 
 'Tis a riddle past my solving, 
 
 "Who he was or whence he came. 
 "Was he that brother home returned ? 
 Was he some former lover spurned ? 
 Or some family fiance 
 That the lady did not fancy ? 
 "Was he any one of those t 
 Sabe Dios. Ah, God knows ! 
 
 Sadly smoking my manilla, 
 
 Much I long to know 
 How fares the lady of the villa 
 
 That once charmed me so, 
 When I visited Sevilla 
 
 Years and years ago. 
 Has she married a Hidalgo ? 
 Gone the way that ladies all go 
 In those drowsy Spanish cities, 
 "Wasting life — a thousand pities — 
 "Waking up for a fiesta 
 
140 "bat billt." 
 
 From an afternoon siestaf 
 To " Giralda " now repairing, 
 Or the Plaza for an airing ; 
 At the shaded reja flirting, 
 At a bnll fight now despoiling; 
 Does she walk at evenings ever 
 Through the gardens by the river ? 
 Guarded by an old duenna 
 Fierce and sharp as a hyena, 
 With her goggles and her fan 
 Warning off each wicked man? 
 Is she dead or is she living ? 
 Is she for my absence grieving ? 
 Is she wretched, is she happy ? 
 "Widow, wife, or maid % Quien sale f 
 
 " BAY BILLY." 
 
 FBANK H. GASSAWAT. 
 
 'Twas the last fight at Fredericksburg— 
 
 Perhaps the day you reck, 
 Our boys, the Twenty-Second Maine, 
 
 Kept Early's men in check. 
 Just where Wade Hampton boomed away 
 
 The fight went neck and neck. 
 
 All day we held the weaker wing, 
 
 And held it with a will ; 
 Five several stubborn times we charged 
 
 The battery on the hill, 
 And five times beaten back, reformed, 
 
 And kept our columns still. 
 
 At last from out the centre fight 
 
 Spurred up a General's Aid. 
 " That battery must silenced be !" 
 
 He cried, as past he sped. 
 Our Colonel simply touched his cap, 
 
 And then, with measured tread,, 
 
"BAY BILLY." 141 
 
 To lead the crouching line once more 
 
 The grand old fellow came. 
 No wounded man but raised his head 
 
 And strore to gasp his name, 
 Aud those who could not speak nor stir, 
 
 " God blessed him " just the same. 
 
 For he was all the world to us, 
 
 That hero gray and grim ; 
 Eight well he knew that fearful slope 
 
 TVe'd climb with none but him, 
 Though while his white head led the way 
 
 "We'd charge hell's portals in. 
 
 This time we were not half way up, 
 
 "When, midst the storm of shell, 
 Our leader, with his sword upraised, 
 
 Beneath our bay 'nets fell. 
 And, as we bore" him back, the foe 
 
 Set up a joyous yell. 
 
 Our hearts went with him. Back we swept, 
 
 And when the bugle said 
 "Up, charge, again !" no man was there 
 
 But hung his dogged head. 
 " "We've no one left to lead us now," 
 
 The sullen soldiers said. 
 
 Just then, before the laggard line 
 
 The Colonel's horse we spied — 
 Bay Billy with his trappings on, 
 
 His nostril swelling wide, 
 As though still on his gallant back 
 
 The master sat astride. 
 
 Eight royally he took the place 
 
 That was of old his wont, 
 And with a neigh, that seemed to say 
 
 Above the battle's brunt, 
 " How can the Twenty-Second charge 
 
 If I am not in front V* 
 
142 u BAY BILLY." 
 
 Like statues wo stood rooted there, 
 
 And gazed a little space ; 
 Above that floating mane we missed 
 
 The dear familiar face ; 
 But we saw Bay Billy's eye of fire, 
 
 And it gave us heart of grace. 
 
 No bugle call could rouse us all 
 As that brave sight had done ; 
 
 Down all the battered line we felt 
 A lightning impulse run ; 
 
 Up, up the hill we followed Bill, 
 And captured eveiy gun ! 
 
 And when upon the conquered height 
 Died out the battle's hum, 
 
 Yainly 'mid living and the dead 
 "We sought our leader dumb ; 
 
 It seemed as if a spectie steed 
 To win that day had come. 
 
 At last the morning broke. The lark 
 
 Sang in the merry sides 
 As if to e'en the sleepers there 
 
 It bade wake, and arise ! 
 Though naught but that last trump of all 
 
 Could ope their heavy eyes. 
 
 And then once more, with banners gay, 
 Stretched out the long brigade ; 
 
 Trimly upon the furrowed field 
 The troops stood on parade, 
 
 And bravely 'mid the ranks were closed 
 The gaps the fight had made. 
 
 Not half the Twenty-Second's men 
 Were in their place that morn, 
 
 And Corp'ral Dick, who yester-noon 
 Stood six brave fellows on, 
 
 Now touched my elbow in the ranks, 
 For all between were gone. 
 
 
KETTJEN OF THE HILLSIDE LEGION. 143 
 
 All ! who forgets that dreary hour 
 
 When, as with misty eyes, 
 To call the old familiar roll 
 
 The solemn Sergeant tries — 
 One feels that thumping of the heart 
 
 As no prompt voice replies. 
 
 And as in falt'ring tone and slow 
 
 The last few names were said, 
 Across the field some missing horse 
 
 Toiled up with weary tread. 
 It caught the Sergeant's eye, and quick 
 
 Bay Billy's name was read. 
 
 Tes ! there the old bay hero stood, 
 
 All safe from battle's harms, 
 And ere an order could be heard, 
 
 Or the bugle's quick alarms, 
 Down all the front, from end to end, 
 
 The troops presented arms ! 
 
 Not all the shoulder-straps on earth 
 
 Could still our mighty cheer. 
 And ever from that famous day, 
 
 When rang the roll-call clear, 
 Bay Billy's name was read, and then 
 
 The whole line answered "Here !" 
 
 RETURtf OF THE HILLSIDE LEGION. 
 
 ETHEL LYNN. 
 
 What telegraphed word 
 
 The village hath stirred ? 
 Why eagerly gather the people ; 
 
 And why do they wait 
 
 At crossing and gate- 
 Why flutters the flag on the steeple ? 
 
 Why, stranger, do tell — 
 It's now a smart spell 
 
144 RETURN OP THE HILLSIDE LEGION. 
 
 Since our sogers went marchin' away, 
 
 And we calculate now 
 
 To show the boys how 
 "We can welcome the Legion to-day. 
 
 Bill Allendale's drum 
 
 "Will sound when they come, 
 
 And there's watchers above on the hill, 
 To let us all know 
 "When the big bugles blow, 
 
 To hurrah with a hearty good will. 
 
 All the women folks wait 
 
 By the 'Cademy gate, 
 "With posies all drippin' with dew ; 
 
 The Legion shan't say 
 
 "We helped them away, 
 And forgot them when service was through. 
 
 My Jack's comin' too, 
 
 He's served the war through ; 
 
 Hark, the rattle and roar of the train ! 
 There's bugle and drum, 
 Our sogers have come ! 
 
 Hurrah ! for the boys home again. 
 
 " Stand aside ! stand aside ! 
 
 Leave a space far and wide 
 Till the regiment forms on the track." 
 
 Two soldiers in blue, 
 
 Two men — only two 
 Stepped off, and the Legion was back. 
 
 The hurrah softly died 
 
 In the space far and wide, 
 As they welcomed the worn, weary men ; 
 
 The drum on the hill 
 
 Grew suddenly still, 
 And the bugle was silent again. 
 
 I asked Farmer Shore 
 A question no more, 
 
CUDDLE DOON. 145 
 
 For a sick soldier lay on his breast ! 
 
 While his hand, hard and brown, 
 
 Stroked tenderly down 
 The locks of the weary at rest. 
 
 CUDDLE DOON. 
 
 ALEXANDER AJSDEE30N 
 
 The baimies cnddle doon at nicht 
 
 Wi' muckle faucht an' din. 
 " Oh, try and sleep, ye waukrife rogues : 
 
 Tour father's comhf in/' 
 They never heed a word I speak. 
 
 I try to gie a froon ; 
 But aye I hap them up, an' cry, 
 
 "Oh, baimies, cuddle doon !" 
 
 "Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid — 
 
 He aye sleeps next the wa' — 
 Bangs up an' cries, " I want a piece " — 
 
 The rascal starts them a\ 
 I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks — 
 
 They stop awee the soun' — 
 Then draw the blankets up, and cry, 
 
 "Noo, weanies, cuddle doon!" 
 
 But ere five minutes gang, wee Eab 
 
 Cries oot, frae 'neath the claes, 
 " Mither, mak' Tarn gie ower at ance : 
 
 He's kittlin' wi' his taes." 
 The mischief's in that Tarn for tricks : 
 
 He'd bother half the toon. 
 But aye I hap them up, and cry, 
 
 " Oh, bairnies cuddle doon !" 
 
 At length they hear their father's fit ; 
 
 An' as he steeks the door, 
 They turn their faces te the wa', 
 
 While Tarn nretends to snore. 
 
146 SHERIDAN'S HIDE. 
 
 " Hae a' the weans been gude ?" he asks, 
 
 As he pits all' his shoon. 
 u The bairnies, John, are in their beds, 
 
 An' lang since cnddled doon." 
 
 An' just afore we bed oorsels, 
 
 We look at oor wee lambs. 
 Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck, 
 
 An' Rab his airm roun' Tarn's. 
 I lift wee Jamie up the bed, 
 
 An' as I straik each croon, 
 I whisper, till my heart fills up, 
 
 " Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon !" 
 
 The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht 
 
 Wi' mirth that's dear to me ; 
 But soon the big warl's cark an' care 
 
 Will quaten doon their glee. 
 Yet, come what will to ilka ane, 
 
 May He who sits aboon 
 Aye whisper, thougb their pows be bauld, 
 
 " Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon !" 
 
 SHERIDAN'S RIDE. 
 
 THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. 
 
 Up from the South at break of day, 
 Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 
 The affrighted air with a shudder bore, 
 Like a herald in haste to the chieftain's door, 
 The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, 
 Telling the battle was on once more, 
 And Sheridan twenty miles away. 
 
 And wider still those billows of war 
 Thundered along the horizon's bar ; 
 And louder yet into Winchester rolled 
 The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, 
 Making the blood of the listener cold, . 
 
 
SHERIDAN'S RIDE. 147 
 
 As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, 
 And Sheridan twenty miles away. 
 
 But there is a road from Winchester town, 
 
 A good broad highway leading down ; 
 
 And there, through the flush of the morning light, 
 
 A steed as black as the steeds of night 
 
 "Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight 
 
 As if he knew the terrible need ; 
 
 He stretched away with his utmost speed ; 
 
 Hills rose and fell ; but his heart was gay, 
 
 With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 
 
 Still sprang from those swift hoofs, thundering South, 
 The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth; 
 Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, 
 Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. 
 The heart of the steed, and the heart of the master 
 Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, 
 Impatient to be where the battle-field calls ; 
 Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, 
 With Sheridan only ten miles away. 
 
 Under his spurning feet, the road 
 
 Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, 
 
 And the landscape sped away behind 
 
 Like an ocean flying before the wind, 
 
 And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, 
 
 Swept on, with his wild eye full of fire. 
 
 But lo ! he is nearing his heart's desire ; 
 
 He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring tray, 
 
 With Sheridan only five miles away. 
 
 The first that the General saw were the groups 
 
 Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops ; 
 
 What was done ? what to do ? a glance told him both ; 
 
 Then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath 
 
 He dashed down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas, 
 
 And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because 
 
 The sight of the master compelled it to pause. 
 
 With foam and with dust the black charger was gray ; 
 
148 THE POWER OF PKAYER. 
 
 By the flash of his eye, and the red nostril's play, 
 He seemed to the whole great army to say, 
 " I have brought you Sheridan all the way 
 From "Winchester, down to save the day." 
 
 Hurrah ! hurrah for Sheridan ! 
 Hurrah ! hurrah for horse and man ! 
 And when their statues are placed on high 
 Under the dome of the Union sky, 
 The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, 
 There with the glorious General's name 
 Be it said in letters both bold and bright : 
 " Here is the steed that saved the day 
 By carrying Sheridan into the fight, 
 From Winchester — twenty miles away I" 
 
 THE POWER OF PRAYER: 
 
 OR, THE FIRST STEAMBOAT UP THE ALABAMA. 
 
 From cribner's Magazine. 
 
 You, Dinah ! Come and set me whar de ribber-roads does meet. 
 De Lord, He made dese black-jack roots to twis' into a seat. 
 Umph, dar! De Lord have mussy on dis blin' ole nigger's feet. 
 
 It 'pear to me dis momin' I kin smell de fust o' June. 
 
 I 'clar', I b'lieve dat mocking-bird could play de fiddle soon ! 
 
 Dem yonder town-bells sounds like dey was ringin' in de moon. 
 
 Well, if dis nigger is been blind for fo'ty year or mo', 
 
 Dese ears, dey sees the world, like, thV de cracks dat's in de do', 
 
 For de Lord has built dis body wid de windows 'hind and 'fo'. 
 
 I know my front ones is stopped up, and things is sort o' dim, 
 But den, th'u' dem, temptation's rain won't leak in on ole Jim ! 
 De back ones shows me earth enough, aldo' dey's mons'ous slim. 
 
 And as for Hebben — blesa de Lord, and praise His holy name — 
 Dat shines in all de co'ners of dis cabin jes' de same 
 As ef dat cabin hadn't nar' a plank upon de frame ! 
 
THE POWER OF PRAYER. 149 
 
 Who call me ? Listen down de ribber, Dinah ! Don't you hyar 
 Somebody hollm' " lioo, Jim, hoo" ? My Sarah died las' y'ar ; 
 Is dat blaek angel done come back to call ole Jim f oin hyar ? 
 
 My stars, dat cain't be Sarah, shuh ! Jes' listen, Dinah, now ! 
 "What kin be comin' up dat bend, a-makin' sich a row? 
 Fus' bellerin' like a pawin' bull, den squealin' like a sow ? 
 
 De Lord 'a' massy sakes alive, jes' hear — ker-woof, ker-woof— 
 De Debbie's comin' round dat bend, he's comin', shuh enuff, 
 A-splashin' up de water wid his tail and wid his hoof ! 
 
 I'se pow'ful skeered ; but neversomeless, I ain't gwine run away ; 
 I'm gwine to stand stiff-legged for de Lord dis blessed day. 
 You screech, and howl, and swish de water, Satan ! Let us pray. 
 
 hebbenly Mah'sr, what Thou wiliest, dat mus' be jes' so, 
 An d ef Thou hast bespoke de word, some nigger's bound to go. 
 Den, Lord, please take ole Jim, and lef young Dinah hyar below ! 
 
 Scuse Dinah, scuse her, Mah'sr ; for she's sich a little chile, 
 She hardly jes' begin to scramble up de home-yard stile, 
 But dis ole traveler's feet been tired dis many a many a mile. 
 
 I'se wufless as de rotten pole of las' year's fodder-stack. 
 
 De rheumatiz done bit my bones ; you hear 'em crack and crack ? 
 
 1 cain't sit down 'dout gruntin' like 'twas breakin' o' my back. 
 
 What use de wheel, when hub and spokes is warped and split and 
 
 rotten? 
 What use dis dried-up cotton-stalk, when Life done picked my 
 
 cotton ? 
 I'se like a word dat somebody done said, and den forgotten. 
 
 But, Dinah ! Shuh dat gal jes' like dis little hick'ry-tree, 
 
 De sap's jes' risin' in her; she do grow owdaciouslee — 
 
 Lord, ef you's cl'arin' de underbrush, don't cut her down, cut me ! 
 
 I would not proud persume— but yet I'll boldly make reques' ; 
 Sence Jacob had dat wrastlin'-match, I, too, gwine do my bes' ; 
 When Jacob got all underholt, de Lord He answered Yes ! 
 
 And what for waste de vittles, now, and th'ow away de bread, 
 Jes' for to strength dese idle hands to scratch dis ole bald head ? 
 T'ink of de 'conomy, Mah'sr, if dis ole Jim was dead ! 
 
150 TnE POWER OF THAYER. 
 
 Stop ! ef I don't believe de Debbie's gone on up de stream ! 
 Jes' now he squealed down dar — hush ! dat's a mighty weakly 
 
 scream ! 
 Tas, sir, he's gone, he's gone ! he snort 'way off, like in a dream ! 
 
 glory hallelujah to de Lord dat reigns on high ! 
 
 De Debbie's fa'ly skeered to def, he done gone flyin' by; 
 
 1 know'd he couldn't stand dat pra'r, I felt my Mah'sr nigh ! 
 
 Tou, Dinah ; ain't you 'shamed, now, dat you didn' trust to grace ? 
 I heerd you thrashin' th'u' de bushes when he showed his face ! 
 You fool, you think de Debbie couldn't beat you in a race ? 
 
 I tell you, Dinah, jes' as sure as you is standin' dar, 
 
 When folks starts prayin', answer-angels drops down th'u' de a'r. 
 
 Yea, Dinah, wliar 'ouldyou be now, exceptm'for datjyra'rf 
 
 
 
DICK'S 
 
 Recitations and Readings. 
 
 A carefully compiled Series of Yolumes, uniform in size and 
 
 style, which will include everything that is fresh and 
 
 popular, introducing, also, the older Gems of 
 
 the English Language that are always 
 
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 CHARACTER SKETCHES, DIALECT PIECES, 
 
 HUMOROUS, SENTIMENTAL, 
 
 PATHETIC, PATRIOTIC, 
 
 ELOQUENT, AND SERIOUS. 
 
 Recitations and Readings in Poetry and Prose, excluding every- 
 thing that is not eminently appropriate, either 
 for Declamation or Public Reading. 
 
 Each Number contains about 180 Pages of Reading Matter, 
 printed on fine paper, from clear type, and handsomely bound 
 
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 We publish a complete Descriptive Catalogue, which will be sent 
 free on application. 
 
 DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 
 
 Box 3975. NEW YORK. 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 
 HOWARD'S RECITATIONS. 
 
 Comic, Serious and Pathetic. Being a carefully selected collec- 
 tion of fresh Recitations in Prose and Poetry, suitable for An- 
 niversaries, Exhibitions, Social Gatherings, and Evening Par- 
 ties; affording, also, an abundance of excellent material for 
 practice and declamation. Edited by Clarence J. Howard. 
 
 / v 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Miss Malony on the Chinese Ques- 
 tion. 
 
 Kit Carson's Ride. A fine descrip- 
 tive poetical recitation. 
 
 Buck Fanshaw's Funeral. 
 
 Knocked About. Monologue. 
 
 The Puzzled Dutchman. Dialect 
 
 Shamus O'Brien. Popular recitation 
 
 The Naughty Little Girl. Humorous. 
 
 The Bells of Shandon. Serious poem. 
 
 No Sect in Heaven. A dream. 
 
 Rory O'More's Present to the Priest. 
 
 "Mother's Fool." A Recitation. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth. A comic oration. 
 
 The Starling. A recitation. 
 
 Lord Dundreary's Riddle. 
 
 The Stuttering Lass. Amusing re- 
 cital. 
 
 The Irish Traveler. Humorous piece. 
 
 The Remedy as Bad as the Disease. 
 
 A Subject for Dissection. 
 
 The Heathen Chinee. 
 
 Mona's Waters. Pathetic recitation. 
 
 A Showman on the Wood chuck. 
 
 How Happy 111 Be. Moral recitation. 
 
 A Frenchman's Account of the Fall. 
 
 Isabel's Grave. Pathetic recitation. 
 
 The Parson and the Spaniel. 
 
 An Irishman's Letter. 
 
 An Affectionate Letter. Irish style. 
 
 The Halibut in Love. 
 
 The Merry Soap-Boiler. 
 
 The Unbeliever. A solemn recitation 
 
 The Voices at the Throne. 
 
 Lord Dundreary Proposing. A very 
 comic recitation. 
 
 The Fireman. Descriptive piece. 
 
 Paid Revere's Ride. 
 
 Annie and Willie's Prayer. Pathetic 
 
 A Frenchman on Macbeth. 
 
 The New Church Organ. 
 
 Katrina Likes Me Poody Veil. Hu 
 morous Ditty in Dutch dialect. 
 
 How to Save a Thousand Pounds. 
 
 How I Got Invited to Dinner. 
 
 Patient Joe. A seiious recitation. 
 
 Jimmy Butler and the Owl. 
 
 The Menagerie. A wild beast show. 
 
 Old Quizzle. 
 
 The Infidel and Quak er. Recitation. 
 
 The Lawyer and the Chimney- 
 Sweeper. 
 
 Bill Mason's Bride. A railroad yam. 
 
 Judging by Appearances. 
 
 The Death's Head ; or. Honesty the 
 best Policy. 
 
 Betsey and I are Out. 
 
 Betsey Destroys the Paper. 
 
 Father Blake's* Collection. 
 
 Blank Verse in Rhyme. 
 
 Roguery Taught by Confession. 
 
 Banty Tim. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 Deacon Hezekiah. Description of 9 
 Sanctimonious Hypocrite. 
 
 The Frenchman and the Landlord. 
 
 The Family Quarrel. A dialogue on 
 the Sixteenth Amendment. 
 
 The Guess. Old English Recitation. 
 
 The Atheist and Acorn. 
 
 Brother Watkins Farewell of a 
 Southern Miuister. 
 
 Hans in a Fix. A Dutchman's dream 
 of Matrimony. 
 
 To-Morrow. Poetical recitation. 
 
 The Highgate Butcher. 
 
 The Lucky Call. The Lost Spectacles. 
 
 Challenging the Foreman. 
 
 The Country Schoolmaster. 
 
 The Matrimonial Bugs and the Trav- 
 elers. 
 
 Peter Sorghum in Love. Yankee 
 story. 
 
 Tim Tuff. A sharp bargain. 
 
 The Romance of Kick Van Stann- 
 
 The Debating Society. Recitation. 
 
 Deacon Stokes. 
 
 A Tribute to our Honored Dead. 
 
 The Dying Soldier. Pathetic poetry. 
 
 The Yankee Fireside. Yankee 
 sketches of character. 
 
 The Suicidal Cat. An affecting tale. 
 
 The Son'o Wish. A dying father's 
 bequest. 
 
 lfimo. 180 pages. Paper covers. Price 30 eta 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back 50 ct% 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 BEECHER'S RECITATIONS 
 
 AXD 
 
 READINGS. 
 Humorous, Serious, Dramatic, including Prose and Poetical 
 Selections in Dutch, French, Yankee, Irish, Backwoods, Negro 
 and other Dialects. Edited by Alvah C. Beeeher. This excel- 
 lent selection has been compiled to meet a growing demand for 
 Public Readings, and contains a number of the favorite pieces 
 that have been rendered with telling effect by the most popular 
 Public Readers of the present time. It includes, also, choice 
 selections for Recitations, and is, therefore, admirably adapted 
 for use at Evening Entertainments, School Celebrations, and 
 other Festival occasions. 
 
 CONTE 
 
 Miss Maloney goes to the Dentist. 
 
 Lost and Found. Pathetic. 
 
 Mygel Snyder's Barty. 
 
 Magdalena ; or, the Spanish Duel. 
 
 Jim Wolfe and the Cats. 
 
 The Woolen Doll. A Maniac's Story. 
 
 The Charity Dinner. A Character- 
 istic Reading. 
 
 Go-Morrow : or, Lot's Wife. [Negro 
 Conversation on Religion. 
 
 The Wind and the Moon. Eecitation. 
 
 Dyin' Words of Isaac. 
 
 Maude Mutter in Dutch. 
 
 Moses the Sassy ; or, the Disguised 
 Duke. Burlesque stvle. 
 
 The Yarn of the " Nancy Bell." 
 
 Paddy the Piper. Irish Narrative. 
 
 Schneider sees " Leah." 
 
 Caldwell of Springfield. A Story. 
 
 Artemus Ward's Panorama. 
 
 Sorrowful Tale of a Servant Girl. 
 
 How a Frenchman Entertained John 
 Bull. 
 
 Tiamondts on der Prain. 
 
 King Bobert of Sicily. A Dream. 
 
 Gloverson the Mormon. 
 
 De PintwidOle Pete. Negro Dialect. 
 
 Pat and the Pior. An Irish Storv. 
 
 The Widow Bedott's Letter to Elder 
 Sniffles. Characteristic. 
 
 The Cry of the Children. 
 
 The Dutchman and the Small-pox. 
 
 Sculpin. A Yankee Anecdote. 
 
 Eats. Descriptive Eecitation. 
 
 An Introduction. A Eeader Intro- 
 duces Himself to an Audience. 
 
 A Dutchman's Dolly Yarden. 
 
 "Bock of Ages." A Beautifid Poem. 
 
 Feeding the^Black Fillies. Irish. 
 
 The Hornet. Its Manners and Cus 
 toms. 
 
 Paper covers. Price 
 
 Bound iu boards, cloth back 
 
 NTS. 
 
 The Glove and the Lions. 
 
 I Yant to Fly. 
 
 That Dos: of Jim Smilev's. 
 
 The Story of the Faithful Soul. 
 
 ' ' My New Pittayatecs." Character- 
 istic. 
 
 Mary Ann's Wedding. 
 
 An inquiring Yankee. 
 
 The Three Bells. Story of a Ship 
 wreck. 
 
 Love in a Balloon. 
 
 Mrs. Brown on the State of the 
 Streets. 
 
 Shoo Flies. "Excelsior" in Dutch. 
 
 Discourse by the Eev. Mr. Bosan. 
 
 Without the Children. Pathetic. 
 
 Signor Ettlsmethi's Dancing Acad- 
 emy. 
 
 Der Goot Lookin Shnow. Parody. 
 
 The Celebrated Jumping Frog. 
 
 The Lost Chord. A Memory of the 
 Past. 
 
 The Tale of a Leg. An Amusing 
 Storv. 
 
 That West-side Dog. 
 
 How Dennis Took the Pledge. 
 
 The Fisherman's Summons, rathetio 
 
 Badger's Debut as Hamlet. 
 
 How" Hezekiah Stole the Spoons. 
 
 Paddy's Dream. 
 
 Victuals and Drink. 
 
 How Jake Schneider Went Blind. 
 
 Aurelia's Unfortunate Young Man. 
 
 Mrs. Brown on Modern Houses. 
 
 Farm Yard Song. Country Scene. 
 
 Murphy's Pork Barrel Mystery. 
 
 The Prayer Seeker. Pathetic Poem. 
 
 An Extraordinary Phenomenon. 
 
 The Case of Young Bangs. 
 
 A Mule Eide in Florida. 
 
 Dhree Shkaders. A Dutch Ditty. 
 
 30 cts. 
 
 50 cts. 
 
Popular Books Sent Free of Postage at tho Prices Annexed. 
 Eavanaugli's Juvenile Speaker. For very little boys and 
 
 girls. Containing short and easily-learned Speeches and Dialogues, ex- 
 pressly adapted for School Celebrations, May-Day Festivals and other Chil- 
 dren's Entertainments. By Mrs. Russell Kavanaugh. This book is just tho 
 thing for Teachers, as it gives a great number of short pieces for very young 
 children, with directions for appropriate dresses. 
 
 It includes a complete programme for a May-Day Festival, with opening 
 chorus and appropriate speeches for nineteen boys and girls, including 
 nearly forty additional speeches for young and very small children. 
 
 It introduces the May-Pole Dance, plainly described in every detail, and 
 forming a very attractive and pleasing exhibition. 
 
 Besides the above, it contains the following Dialogues and Recitations, for 
 two, three or more boys and girls of various ages : 
 
 Salutatory 
 
 Salutatory 
 
 Opening Song 
 
 Opening Recitation 
 
 An Interrupted Kecitation 
 
 An Imaginative Invention. . . . 
 
 Speech 
 
 A Joyful Surprise 
 
 An Oration 
 
 How He Had Him 
 
 The Old Maid 
 
 The Old Bachelor 
 
 Poetrv, Prose and Pact 
 
 The Dumb Wife 
 
 To Inconsistent Husbands 
 
 Small Pitchers have Large 
 
 Ears 
 
 Sour Grapes 
 
 Not Worth While to Hate . . . 
 A Strike Among the Mowers. 
 
 A Witty Retort 
 
 The Young Critic 
 
 "They Say" 
 
 Speech 
 
 " Angels Can Do No More.".. 
 
 Recitation 
 
 Dialogue 
 
 Holiday Speech 
 
 The Love-Scrape 
 
 An Old Ballad 
 
 The Milkmaid 
 
 Billy Grimes, the Drover 
 
 Grandmother's Beau 
 
 Speech 
 
 Honesty the Best Policy 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 13 
 
 1 
 
 12 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 3 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
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 1 
 
 
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 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 2 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 2 
 
 
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 1 
 
 
 4 
 
 
 Balance Due 
 
 Recitation 
 
 The Coming Woman 
 
 Speech 
 
 The Power of Temper 
 
 Truth and Falsehood 
 
 Recitation 
 
 Recitation 
 
 Recitation 
 
 Christmas Forty Tears Ago. 
 
 Speech 
 
 Trving Hard 
 
 The School-Boy 
 
 Recitation 
 
 "I Told You So" 
 
 Speech 
 
 Speech 
 
 Speech 
 
 Choosing a Name 
 
 Baby Bye 
 
 Dialogue 
 
 Little Puss 
 
 Poor Men vs. Rich Men 
 
 Helping Papa and Mamma... 
 
 Annabel's First Parry 
 
 The Spendthrift Doll 
 
 The Little Mushrooms 
 
 Valedictory 
 
 Riding in the Cars 
 
 Riding in the Cars 
 
 Speech 
 
 The Cobbler's Secret 
 
 Dialogue 
 
 Valedictory 
 
 The whole embraces a hundred 
 pieces, from which selections can 
 girls of from two to sixteen years 
 
 and twenty-three easy and very effective 
 be made to suit the capacities of boys and 
 of age. 
 
 16mo, illuminated paper cover. Price 30 ots. 
 
 " Boards = 50 ets. 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 WILSON'S BOOK OF RECITATIONS 
 
 DIALOGUES. 
 
 With instructions in Elocution and Declamation. Containing a 
 choice selection of Poetical and Prose Recitations. Designed 
 as au Assistant to Teachers and Students in preparing Exhibi- 
 tions. By Eloyd B. Wilson, Professor of Elocution. 
 COXTEXTS. 
 
 Instruction rx Elocution and Dfx- 
 
 LAMATION. 
 
 Dedication of Gettysburg Cemetery. 
 
 Sheridan's Kide. 
 
 There's but oue Pair of Stockings. 
 
 Modulation. 
 
 The Drummer Boy's Burial. 
 
 John Mavnard, the Pilot. 
 
 The Bovs\ 
 
 The Duel. 
 
 Loehiel's Warning. 
 
 Socrates Snooks. 
 
 Mosaic Poetry. 
 
 Burial of the Champion of Ids Class 
 
 at Yale College. 
 Scott and the Veteran. 
 Barbara Erietchie. 
 I Wouldn't— Would You » 
 The Professor Puzzled. 
 Thanatopsis. 
 The Two Roads. 
 The Pawnbroker's Shop. 
 The Sophomore's Soliloquy. 
 The Nation's Hymn. 
 Address to a Skeleton. 
 A Glass of Cold Water. 
 Little Gretchen ; or. Xew Year's Eve. 
 Good Xews from Ghent. 
 The Sea Captain's Story. 
 Our Heroes. 
 The Closinsr Year. 
 Burial of Little Nell. 
 The Picket Guard. 
 The Poor Man and the Eiend. 
 Our Country's Call. 
 The Conquered Banner. 
 The High Tide; or, The Brides of 
 
 Enderby. 
 Death of Gaudentis. 
 Don Garzia. 
 Past Meridian 
 The Founding of Gettysburg Monu 
 
 ment. 
 Spartacus to the Gladiators. 
 Soliloquy of the Dying Alchemist. 
 The Country Justice. 
 Unjust National Acquisition. 
 
 Paper covers. Price 
 
 Bound in l>oards, cloth back 
 
 Dimes and Dollars. 
 
 The Dead Drummer Boy. 
 
 Home. 
 
 Responsibility of American Citizens. 
 
 The Jester's "Sermon. 
 
 Left on the Battle Eield. 
 
 The American Flag. 
 
 Oh ! Why should the Spirit of Mortal 
 be Proud ? 
 
 Parrhasius. 
 
 The Vagabonds. 
 
 A Bridal Wine Cup. 
 
 Blanche of Devan's Last Words. 
 
 Widow Bedott to Elder Sniffles. 
 
 A Psalm of the Union. 
 
 Charge of a Dutch Magistrate. 
 
 Stars in my Country's bky. 
 
 Bingen on the Rhine. 
 
 Religions Character of President Lin- 
 coln. 
 
 The Raven. 
 
 The Loyal Legion. 
 
 Agnes and the Years. 
 
 Cataline's Defiance. 
 
 Our Folks. 
 
 The Beautiful Snow. 
 
 The Ambitious Youth. 
 
 The Flag of Washington. 
 
 The Abbot of Waltham. 
 
 Ode to an Infant Son. 
 
 The Scholar's Mission. 
 
 Claude Melnotte's Apology. 
 
 The Forging of the Anchor. 
 
 The Wreck of the Hesperus. 
 
 The Man of Ross. 
 
 No Work the Hardest Work. ' 
 
 What is Time \ 
 
 Brntus's Oration over the Body of 
 Lncretia. 
 
 What is That, Mother ? 
 
 A Colloquy with Myself. 
 
 St. Philip Xeri and'the Youth. 
 
 The Chameleon. 
 
 Henry the Fourth's Soliloquy on 
 Sleep. 
 
 On Procrastination. 
 
 Appendix. 
 
 30cts. 
 
 50 cts 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 BARTON'S COMIC RECITATIONS 
 
 HUMOROUS DIALOGUES. 
 
 Containing a variety of Comic Recitations in Prose and Poetry, 
 Amusing Dialogues, Burlesque Scenes, Eccentric Orations, 
 Humorous Interludes and Laughable Farces. Designed for 
 School Commencements and Amateur Theatricals. Edited by 
 Jerome Barton. 
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 The Stage-Struck Hero. A Ranting 
 
 Poetical Recitation. 
 Here She Goes — and There She Goes. 
 Pastor M'Knock's Address against 
 
 the Sin of Tippling. 
 Old Sugar's Courtship. 
 The Bachelor's Reasons for Taking a 
 
 "Wife. A Poetical Recitation. 
 The Spanish Valet and the "Waiting 
 
 Maid. Dialogue for 1 male and 1 
 
 female. 
 The Jackdaw of Rheims. Recitation. 
 Jonathan and the Englishman. 
 Artemus Ward's Trip to Europe. 
 
 Very Humorous Recitation. 
 The Auctioneer and the Lawyer. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Skinner. 
 The Bachelor and the Bride. 
 The Drunkard and his Wife. 
 A "Western Lawyer's Plea against 
 
 the Fact. 
 Reading a Tragedy. Declamation. 
 Cast-off Garments. An Extract from 
 
 " Nothing to Wear." 
 How to Cure a Cough. 
 The Soldier's Return. Etlnopian 
 
 Dialogue for 2 males. 
 The Countrymen and the Ass. An 
 
 excellent Fable! 
 Come and Go. Poetical Recitation. 
 How they Pop the Question. Reci- 
 tation for Mimicry. 
 The Clever Idiot. Poetical. 
 The Knights; or, Botia Right and 
 
 Both Wrong. An Excellent Fable. 
 How the Lawyer got a Patron Saint. 
 Josh Billings on Laughing. 
 The Night after Christmas. 
 A Change of System. A Parlor 
 
 Comedy for 2 males and 1 female. 
 The Citizen and the Thieves. 
 Boggs's Dogs. A Profitable Trade. 
 The Smack in School. 
 
 The Tinker and the Miller's Daughter 
 
 An Original Parody. Recitation. 
 
 The Parsons and' the Corkscrew. 
 Humorous Recitation. 
 
 The Old Gentleman who Married a 
 Young "Wife. Dialogue for 1 male 
 and I female. 
 
 The Stage-Struck Darkey. Ethiopian 
 Interlude for males. 
 
 Goody Grim versus Lapstone. Dia- 
 logue for 4 males. 
 
 The Woman of Mind. Recitation. 
 
 Nursery Reminiscences. 
 
 A Martyr to Science: or, "Wanted — 
 A Confederate. Farce for 4 males. 
 
 Lodgings for Single Gentlemen. 
 
 The Farmer and the Counsellor. 
 
 The Pugilists. A Striking Tale. 
 
 How Pat Saved his Bacon. Charac- 
 teristic Narrative. 
 
 The Irish Drummer. A Story of the 
 Lash. 
 
 Mike Hooter's Bear Story. A Dia- 
 lect Recitation. 
 
 The Critic. Humorous Recitation. 
 
 Mr. Caudle "Wants a Latch-key. 
 
 Humbugging a Tourist. Character 
 Dialogue for 3 males. 
 
 The Widow's Victim. Ethiopian In- 
 terlude for 2 males and 1 female. 
 
 Josh Billings on the Mule. 
 
 The Tinker and the Glazier. 
 
 "Wonderful Dream. Negro Dialogue 
 for 2 males. 
 
 An Occasional Address. For a Lady's 
 First Appearance. 
 
 An Occasional Prologue. For Open- 
 ing a Performance. 
 
 Address on Closing a Performance. 
 
 A Prologue for a Performance by 
 Boys. 
 
 An Epilogue for a School Perform- 
 ance. 
 
 This is one of the best collection of Humorous Pieces especially adapted to 
 the Parlor Stage that has ever been published. 16 mo. 180 pages. 
 
 Paper covers. Price 30 Cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back..... 50 CtS. 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 
 SPENCEB'S BOOK OF COMIC SPEECHES 
 
 AND 
 
 HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 
 
 A collection of Comic Speeches and Dialogues, Humorous Prose 
 and Poetical Recitations, Laughable Dramatic Scenes and Bur- 
 lesques, and Eccentric Characteristic Soliloquies and Stories. 
 Suitable for School Exhibitions and Evening Entertainments. 
 Edited by Albert J. Spencer. 
 
 CONT 
 
 The Yankee Landlord. 
 
 His Eye was Stern and "Wild. 
 
 The Goddess of Slang. Comic. 
 
 Dick, the Apothecary's Apprentice. 
 
 Courting in French Hollow. Dialect 
 Recital. 
 
 The Case Altered. 
 
 The Fox and the Ranger. Dialect 
 Dialogue for 2 males. 
 
 The Declaration. 
 
 The Warrantee Deed. Comic Song 
 or Recitation ; with Chorus. 
 
 A Night's Adventure. Thrilling. 
 
 Julia Comic Love Scene. 
 
 Saying not Meaning. Humorous. 
 
 16.000 Years Ago. Negro Burlesque 
 for 3 males. 
 
 The Nimmers. Degrees of Crime. 
 
 Gucom and the Back-log. 
 
 "Widow Bedott's Mistake. Dialogue 
 for 1 male and 1 female. 
 
 Categorical Courtship. How a Bash- 
 fid Lover " popped the Question." 
 
 Mr. Artemus Ward crossing Dixie. 
 
 My Last Shirt. Pathetic Rhap- 
 
 sodv. 
 
 The Three Black Crows. 
 
 The Barber's Shop. For 2 males. 
 
 Paddv O'Rafther. Irish Dialect. 
 
 Decidedly Cool. Scene for 2 males 
 and 1 female. 
 
 The Frenchman and the Rats. 
 
 The Jester Condemned to Death. • 
 
 Kindred Quacks. Physic and Divi- 
 nity. . , , 
 
 Hans Breitmann's Party. Dialect. 
 
 The Generous Frenchman. Dialect. 
 
 Saint Jonathan. A Poem of to-day. 
 
 Stump speech. Highfalutin' Style. 
 
 The Rival Lodgers. Farce for 2 
 males and 1 female. 
 
 The Frenchman and the Mosquitoes. 
 
 The Maiden's Mishap. , 
 
 The Removal. An Amusing Recital. 
 
 Talking Latin. Characteristic. 
 
 Pravin'g for Rain. 
 
 Paper covers. Price 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back. 
 
 NTS. 
 
 The Darkey Photograplwr. Negro 
 scene for 3 males. 
 
 Paddy and his Musket. Funny. 
 
 Hezekiah Bedott. Gossipy Style. 
 
 Hncle Reuben's Tale. 
 
 Mr. Caudle has been to Greenwich 
 Fair. 
 
 The Chemist and his Love. 
 
 The Disgusted Dutchman. Dialect 
 Dialogue for 3 males. 
 
 The Frightened Traveler. An Ad- 
 venture. 
 
 Economy. The Jewess and her Son. 
 
 Clerical Wit. True Lies. 
 
 The School House. Descriptive Piece. 
 
 Daniel versus Dish clout. 
 
 Spectacles, or Helps to Read. 
 
 The Pig. Colloquial Poem in praise 
 of this much despised animal. 
 
 A Stray PaiTot. Farce for 1 male 
 and 2 females. 
 
 Dame Fredegonde. A Priest's advice. 
 
 Toby Tosspot. Convivial Adventure. 
 
 Courtship and Matrimony. 
 
 Rings and Seals. Poetical. 
 
 The" Biter Bit. A Wail of the For- 
 saken. 
 
 Pat and the Gridiron. Amusing 
 Dialect Recitation. 
 
 The Barmecide's Feast. Burlesque 
 for 5 males, with directions. 
 
 The Country Pedagogue. Descrip- 
 tive Sketch after Nature. 
 
 The Middle-aged Man and Two Wid- 
 ows. 
 
 The Saratoga Waiter. Funny Negro 
 Scene for 2 males. 
 
 The Wrangling Pair. A Monologue. 
 
 A Connubial Eclogue. Poetical 
 Dialogue for I male and 1 female. 
 
 The Italian from Cork. Scene in a 
 Justice's Court, for 3 males. 
 
 Gasper Schnapps' Exploit. A Brag- 
 gart's Boast. 
 
 Epilogue. Suitable for conclusion of 
 an Entertainment. 
 
 30 cts. 
 
 50 ets. 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 BRUDDER BONES' BOOK OF STUMP SPEECHES 
 
 BURLESOUE ORATIONS. 
 
 Also containing Humorous Lectures, Ethiopian Dialogues, Plan- 
 tation Scenes, Negro Farces and Burlesques, Laughable inter- 
 ludes and Comic liecitations. Compiled and edited by John P. 
 Scott. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 If I may so Speak. Burlesque Ora- 
 tion. 
 
 Dr. Pillsbury's Lecture on Politics. 
 
 Vegetable Poetry. Dialogue for 2 
 males. 
 
 Teco Brag's Lecture on Astronomy. 
 
 We saw Her but a Moment. 
 
 Stocks Up, Stocks Down. Darkey 
 dialogue for 2 males. 
 
 Brudder Bones' Love Scrapes. 
 
 Stump Speech; or. "Any other Man." 
 
 Wars your Hoss. Dialogue Recital. 
 
 Geology. Dialogue for 2 males. 
 
 Tin-pan-o-ni-on. Pantomime for 
 Leader and Orchestra. 
 
 Dr. Puff Stuffs Lecture on Patent 
 Medicines. 
 
 Sailing. Dialogue for 2 males. 
 
 Challenge Dance. Ethiopian Act for 
 3 males. 
 
 Lecture on Bad Boys. An amusing 
 Recitation. 
 
 Tony Pastor's Great Union Speech. 
 
 A Tough Boarding House. Conver- 
 sation between 2 Darkeys. 
 
 Sleeping Child. Dialogue for 2 males. 
 
 Ain't I Right, Eh ? Speech. 
 
 Wonderful Egg. Darkey Dialogue 
 for 2 males. 
 
 A Bootblack's Soliloquy. Darkey. 
 
 Lecture to a Fire Company. 
 
 Julius' Peaches. Dialogue for 2 Dar- 
 keys. 
 
 De Trouble Begins at Nine. 
 
 The Arkansas Traveler. Dialogue 
 for 2 Violin players. 
 
 Slap Jack. Dialogue for 2 Darkeys. 
 
 Demi-Semi-Centennial Turkey -town 
 Celebration. An Oration. 
 
 Uncle Steve's Stump Speech. 
 
 A Midnight Murder. Thrilling. 
 
 Dat's What's de Matter. 
 
 The Freezing Bed Feller. Recitation. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins. 
 
 Paddy Fagan's Pedigree. 
 
 The Rival Darkeys. "Act for 2 males. 
 
 Hans Sourcrout. on Signs and Omens. 
 
 Hun-ki-do-ris Fourth of July Oration. 
 
 16 mo. 188 pages. Paper covers. P: 
 
 Bound in boards, illuminated: 
 
 Josh Billings on Mosquitoes. 
 
 Romantic History ol'Cap. John Smith. 
 
 A Speech on Women. Humorous. 
 
 An Impulsive Peroration. 
 
 The Bet. Dialogue for 2 Darkeys. 
 
 Old Times gone By. Dialogue with 
 songs tor 2 Darkeys. 
 
 The Echo. Act for 2 Negroes. 
 
 Sol Slocum's Bugle. Dialect. 
 
 Western Stump Speech. Highfalutin'. 
 
 In the Show Business. Short Dia- 
 logue for 2 males. 
 
 " We are." Favorite Stump Oration. 
 
 An Original Burlesque Oration. 
 
 Waiting to see Him off. For 2 males. 
 
 Patriotic Stump Speech. 
 
 De Railroad Accident. Dialogue for 
 2 Darkeys. 
 
 The Dutchman's Lecture on the War. 
 
 Professor Un worth's Atlantic Cable 
 Lecture. 
 
 The Three old Ladies. Recitation. 
 
 Josh Billings' Lecture onto Musick. 
 
 The Misfortunes of Brudder Bones' 
 Lady- Love. Dialogue for 2 males. 
 
 Deaf— lu a Horn. Act for 2 males. 
 
 Or any oder Man's Dog. A Speech. 
 
 Happy Uncle Tom. Plantation Scene. 
 
 Stick 'a Pin dere. Brudder Horace. 
 
 Burlesque Lecture on Woman's 
 Rights. 
 
 Dat's wot de "Ledger" says. Dia- 
 logue for two Darkeys. 
 
 Goose Hollow Stump Speech. 
 
 De Milk in de Cocoa Nut. 
 
 A Dutchman's Answer. 
 
 Lecture on Cats. Humorous. 
 
 The Patent Screw; or, How to be Re- 
 venged. 
 
 The Auctioneer. Characteristic. 
 
 Hints on Courtship. To Young Men. 
 
 A Dutch Recruiting Oflicer. 
 
 Spirit Rappings. Roaring Darkey 
 Dialogue for 2 males. 
 
 Dar's de Money. From "Othello." 
 
 Let Her Rip. Burlesque Lecture. 
 
 The Stranger. Ethiopian Scene for 
 1 male and 1 female. 
 
 ice 30 cts. 
 
 50 cts. 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 MARTINE'S DROLL DIALOGUES 
 
 LAUGHABLE 
 
 By Arthur Martine, author of 
 
 RECITATIONS. 
 
 Martme's Letter-Writer," etc., 
 etc. A collection of Humorous Dialogues, Comic Recitations, 
 Brilliant Burlesque, Spirited Stump Speeches and Ludicrous 
 Farces, adapted for School and other Celebrations and for Home 
 Amusement. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Hints to Amateur Performers in Par- 
 lor Theatricals. 
 
 Explanation of Stage Directions, 
 with Diagram. 
 
 Prelude to an Evening's Recitations. 
 Humorous Poetical Address. 
 
 The Bell and the Gong. Original 
 Humorous Recitation. 
 
 Mrs. Dove's Boarding House. Origi- 
 nal Amusing Recitation. 
 
 The Wilkins Family. A Recitation 
 fall of Puns and Jokes. 
 
 The Lawyer's Stratagem. How he 
 tricked the Squire. 
 
 Eulogy on Laughing. A well-known 
 popular Recitation. 
 
 Drawing a Long Bow. Dramatic 
 Dialogue for 3 males and I female. 
 
 "Woman. The Origin of Woman's 
 Ascendency over Man. 
 
 Veny Raynbr's Bear Story. A 
 thrilling* characteristic narration. 
 
 The Game of Life. The Moral Ap- 
 plication of a game at Euchre. 
 
 The Fortune Hunter. Laughable 
 Dialogue for 2 males and 3 females. 
 
 The Parson and the "Widow. A 
 short, Poetical Recitation. 
 
 Hezekiah Stabbins' Fourth of July 
 Oration. A Yankee Stump Speech. 
 
 Make your "Wills. Ludicrous Farce 
 for 7 male characters. 
 
 Mr. Rogers and Monsieur Denise. A 
 celebrated Comic Recitation. 
 
 The Darkey Debating Society. Ethi- 
 opian Dialogue for 2 males. 
 
 The Scandal Monger. Dramatic 
 Dialogue for 2 males and 2 females. 
 
 Poor Richard's Sayings. "With An- 
 notations by Lord Dundreary. 
 
 Prologue to " The Apprentice." 
 
 Address in the character of " Hope." 
 A Prologue for an Entertainment. 
 
 Parody on the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 Bombastes Furioso. A Burlesque 
 
 for 7 males. 
 Characteristic Address. The wail 
 
 of a Printer's Devil. 
 Examining de Bumps. Ethiopian 
 
 Dialogue for 2 males. 
 Election Stump Speech. Addressed 
 
 to the Electors of Wethersfield. 
 A Matrimonial Tiff. Characteristic 
 
 Dialogue for 1 male and 2 females. 
 The Frenchman aud the Sheep's 
 
 Trotters. Comic Recitation. 
 The Poor Relation; or, Love Me, 
 
 Love my Dog. Comic Drama for 
 
 7 males. 
 Vat you Please. Experiences of two 
 
 Frenchmen in England. 
 The Babes in the Wood. Burlesque 
 
 for 3 males and 4 females. 
 My Aunt. Poetical Recitation. 
 Handy Andv's Little Mistakes. 
 
 Laughable Irish Story. 
 The Cat Eater. Comic Recitation. 
 A Shocking Mistake. Dialog ae for 
 
 3 males and 2 females. 
 "Wanted a Governess. A satirically 
 
 comic Recitation. 
 The Rival Broom Makers. Comic 
 
 Recitation. 
 Pandeen O'Raffertv's Say- Voyage. 
 
 Laughable Lish Recitation. 
 Mr. Caudle's Wedding Dinner. A 
 
 Curtain Lecture. 
 Our Cousins. Negro Dialogue for 2 
 
 male characters. 
 Mr. Caudle has been made a Mason. 
 
 Curtain Lecture. 
 Address of Sergeant Buzfuz at the 
 
 Trial of Pick wick. 
 The Wonderful "Whalers. A very 
 
 surprising narrative. 
 Sam welter's Valentine. Character 
 
 Dialogue for 2 males. 
 Job Trotter's Secret. Amusing Dia- 
 logue, for 3 : 
 
 188 pages. Paper covers. Price 30 cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth baok ..,..».,,.,,.,... .50 Cts. 
 
P opular Books Sent Free of Postage at the Prices Annexed. 
 
 Frost's Dialogues for Young Folks. A Collection of Origi- 
 nal. Moral and Humorous Dialogues. Adapted to the use of School and 
 Church Exhibitions, Family Gatherings and Juvenile Celebrations on nil 
 Occasions. 13y S. A. Frost. 
 
 Contents. 
 
 Novel Rending 
 
 The Bound Girl 
 
 Writing- a Letter 
 
 The Wonderful Scholar 
 
 Slang 
 
 The Language of Flowers .. 
 
 The Morning Call 
 
 The Spoiled Child 
 
 The Little Travelers 
 
 Little Things 
 
 Generosity 
 
 Country Cousins 
 
 Wi a ning the Prize 
 
 The Unfortunate Scholar... 
 
 The Day of Misfortunes 
 
 Jealousy 
 
 The May Queen 
 
 Temptation Resisted 
 
 lfirao, Paper Covers. Price. 
 Bound in Boards 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 CQ O 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 
 4 
 
 
 o 
 
 1 
 
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 Contents. 
 
 A Place for Everything.... 
 
 1 Want to be a Soldier 
 
 Sell-Denial 
 
 The Traveler 
 
 Idleness the Mother of Evil. 
 
 The French Lesson 
 
 Civility Never Lost 
 
 AVho Works the Hardest?.. 
 
 The Everlasting Talker 
 
 The Epicure 
 
 True Charity 
 
 Starting in Life 
 
 I Didn't Mean Anything... 
 
 Ambition 
 
 Choosing a Trade 
 
 The Schoolmaster Abroad. 
 
 AVhite Lies 
 
 The Hoyden 
 
 R ■£ 
 
 3 
 
 1 
 1 
 4 
 5 
 ft 
 7 
 3 
 1 
 
 • 30 cts 
 
 • 50 cts 
 
 Frost's New Book of Dialogues. A series of entirely new ana 
 original humorous Dialogues, specially adapted for performauce at School 
 Anniversaries aud Exhibitions, or other Festivals and Celebrations of the 
 Young Folks. 
 
 Contents. 
 
 Slang versus Dictionary 
 
 Country or City 
 
 Turning the Tables 
 
 The Force of Imagination 
 
 The Modern Robinson Crusoe 
 
 The Threatened Visit 
 
 The Dandy and the Boor 
 
 Nature versus Education 
 
 The British Lion and Ameri- 
 can Hoosier 
 
 Curing a Pedant 
 
 Pursuit of Knowledge under 
 Difficulties 
 
 The Daily Governess 
 
 The Army and Navy 
 
 Economy is AVealth 
 
 £ 
 
 4 
 
 
 P o 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 
 
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 3 
 
 
 
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 5 
 
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 3 
 
 Contents. g> 
 « 
 
 The Intelligence Office 4 
 
 Cats 8 
 
 Too Fine and Too Plain ' 
 
 The Fourth of July Oration ... 5 
 
 The Sewing Circle 
 
 Fix 2 
 
 The Yankee Aunt 2 
 
 The "Walking Encyclopedia... . 5 
 
 The Novel Readers 
 
 The Model Farmer 2 
 
 Buying a Sewing-Machine 4 
 
 Sam Wellcr's Valentine 2 
 
 The Hungry Traveler 2 
 
 Deaf as a Post 1 
 
 The Rehearsal 6 
 
 These Dialogues are admirably adapted for home performance, as they re- 
 quire no set scenery for their representation. By S. A. Frost. 180 pages, ] fimo. 
 
 Paper covers. Price 30 Cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cta. 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 
 CHECKERS AND CHESS. 
 
 Spayth's American Draught Player; or, The Theory and 
 
 Practice of the Scientific Game of Checkers. Simplified and Illustrated 
 with Practical Diagrams. Containing upwards of 1,700 Games and Posi- 
 tions. By Heury Spayth. Sixth edition, with over three hundred Correc- 
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 how formed — The " Theory of the Move and its Changes" practicallv ex- 
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 List of Draught Treatises and Publications chronologically arranged. 
 Bound in cloth, gilt side and back S3. 00 
 
 Spayth's Game of Draughts. By Henry Spayth. This book 
 
 is designed as a supplement to the author's first work, "The American 
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 Scattergood's Game of Draughts, or Checkers, Simplified 
 
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 ""readings and recitationsT - 
 
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 Hoi ^1)75. NEW YORK. 
 
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 ' AMATEUR THEATRICALS. ' 
 
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Off-Hand Speeches on a Variety of 
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 Comical Stories, Cruel Sells, 
 
 Side- Splitting Jokes, Humorous Poet- 
 ry, 
 
 Quaint Parodies, Burlesque Ser~ 
 mons. 
 
 New Conundrums, Mirth-Provoking 
 
 Speeches, 
 Curious Puzzles, Amusing Card 
 
 Tricks, and 
 Astonishing Peats of Parlor-Magic. 
 
 This book is illustrated with nearly 200 funny engravings, and contains, in 
 64 large octavo double-column pages, at least three times as much reading 
 matter and real fun as any other book of the price 15 Ct3. 
 
 The Strange and Wonderful Adventures of Bachelor 
 
 Butteriy. Showing how his passion for Natural History completely 
 eradicated the tender passion implanted in his breast— also detailing his 
 Extraordinary Travels, both by sea and land— his Hair-breadth Escapes 
 from fire and cold— his being come over by a Widow with nine small 
 children— his wonderful Adventures with the Doctor and the Fiddler, and 
 other Perils of a most extraordinary nature. The whole illustrated by about 
 200 engravings 30 CtS, 
 
 The Laughable Adventures of Messrs. Brown, Jones and 
 
 Robinson. Showing where they went, and how they went, what they did, 
 and how they did it. Here is a book which will make you split your sides 
 laughing. It shows the comical adventures of three jolly young greenhorns, 
 who went traveling, and got into all manner of scrapes and funny adven- 
 tures. Illustrated with nearly 200 thrillingly-comic engravings. . . .".30 Cts. 
 
 The Mishaps and Adventures of Obadiah Oldbuck. This 
 
 humorous and curious book sets forth, with 188 comic drawings, the mis- 
 fortunes which befell Mr. Oldbuck ; and also his five unsuccessful attempts 
 to commit suicide — his hair-breadth escapes from fire, water and famine— 
 his affection for his poor dog, etc. To look over this book will make you 
 laugh, and you can't help it 30 cts. 
 
 Jack Johnson's Jokes for the Jolly. a collection of Funny 
 
 Stories, Droll Incidents, Queer Conceits and Apt Repartees. Illustrating 
 the Drolleries of Border Life in the "West, Yankee Peculiarities, Dutch 
 Blunders, Erench Sarcasms, Irish Wit and Humor, etc., with short Ludic- 
 rous Narratives ; making altogether a Medley of Mirthful Morsels for the 
 Melancholy that will drive away the blues, and cause the most misanthropio 
 mortal to laugh. Illustrated paper covers 25 cts. 
 
 Snipsnaps and Snickering's of Simon Snodgrass. A collec. 
 
 tion of Droll and Laughable Stories, illustrative of Irish Drolleries and 
 Blarney, Ludicrous Dutch Blunders, Queer Yankee Tricks and Dodpres, 
 Backwoods Boasting, Humors of Horse-trading, Negro Comicalities, Per- 
 ilous Pranks of Eighting Men, Frenchmen's Queer Mistakes. Scotch Shrewd- 
 ness, and other phases of eccentric character, that go to make up a perfect 
 and complete Medley of Wit and H\imor. It is also full of funny engrav- 
 ings ,..,,, 25 cts. 
 
Fo-ular Sooks cent Frco cf Portage at tho Price3 annexed. 
 
 Madams Le Normand's Fortune Teller. An entertaining 
 
 book, said to have been written by Madame Le Normond, the celebruteit 
 French Fortune Teller, who was frequently consulted by the Emperor 
 Napoleon. A party of ladies ami gentlemen may amuse themselves fur 
 hours with this curious book. It tells fortunes by •'"The Chart of Fate " (a 
 large lithographic chart), and gives 624 answers to questions on every imag- 
 inable subject that may happen in the future. It explains a variety of ways 
 for telling fortunes by Cauls and Dice; gives a list of 79 curious old su- 
 perstitions and omens, and 187 weather omens, and winds up with the cele- 
 brated Oraculum of Napoleon. We will not endorse this hookas infallible; 
 but we assure our readers that it is the source of much mirth whenever in- 
 troduced at a gathering of ladies and gentlemen. Bound in boards. 40 Cts. 
 
 The Fireside Magician; or, Th3 Art of Natural Magic 
 
 Made Easy, Being a scientific explanation of Legerdemain, PhyBioal 
 Amusement, Recreative Chemistry, Diversion with Cards, and of all the 
 mysteries of Mechanical Magic, with feats as performed by Herr Alexander, 
 Robert Heller, Ilobert Houdin, " The Wizard of the Sorth," and distin- 
 guished conjurors — comprising two hundred and fifty interesting mental and 
 physical recreations, with explanatory engravings. 132 pages, paper. 30 ct ■•• 
 Bound in boards, cloth back *. 50 Ct3. 
 
 Howard's Book of Conundrums and Riddles. Containing 
 
 over 1,200 of the best Conundrums, Biddies, Enigmas, Ingenious Catches 
 and Amusing Sells ever invented. This splendid eollectionof curious para- 
 doxes will afford the materialfor a never-ending feast of fun and amusement. 
 Any person, with the assistance of this book, may take the lead in enter- 
 taining a company, and keep them in roars of laughter for hours together. 
 
 Paper covers 30 Cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Ct3. 
 
 The Parlor Magician; or, One Hundred Tricks for the 
 
 Drawing-Room. Containing an extensive and miscellaneous collection of 
 Conjuring and Legerdemain, embracing: Tricks with Dice, Dominoes and 
 Cards; Tricks with Bibbons. Bings and Fruit; Tricks with Coin, Hand- 
 kerchiefs and Balls, etc. The whole illustrated and clearly explained with 
 
 12L engravings. Paper covers 30 Cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Ct3. 
 
 Sook of Riddles and 500 Home Amusements. Containing 
 
 a curious collection of Biddies, Charades and Enigmas ; Bebuses, Anagrams 
 and Transpositions; Conundrums and Amusing Puzzles; Becrcations in 
 Arithmetic, and Queer Sleights, and numerous other Entertaining Amuse- 
 ments. Illustrated with 60 engravings. Paper covers 30 Cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, -with cloth back 50 Cts. 
 
 The Book of Fireside Games. Containing an explanation of a 
 
 variety of Witty, Bollicking. Entertaining and Innocent Games and Amus- 
 ing Forfeits, suited to the Family Circle as aBccreation. This book is just 
 the thing for social gatherings, parties and pic-nics. Paper covers -30 Cts. 
 Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Ct3. 
 
 The Book of 500 Curious Puzzles. Containing a large collec- 
 tion of Curious Puzzles, Entertaining Paradoxes, Perplexing Deceptions in 
 Numbers, Amusing Tricks hi Geometry; illustrated with a great variety of 
 
 Engravings. Paper covers 30 cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Cts. 
 
 Parlor Tricks with Cards. Containing explanations of all the 
 
 Tricks and Deceptions with Playing Cards ever invented. The -whole illus- 
 trated and made plain and easy "with 70 engravings. Paper covers.. 30 Cts. 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back .....50 cts. 
 
Popular Book3 sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 
 Day's Book-Keeping Without a Master. Containing the Ru- 
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 bines the advantages of a handsome style of writing wi.h its very simple and 
 easily understood" lessons in Book-keeping. Tue several pages have ex- 
 planations at the bottom to assist the learner, in small type. As a pattern 
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 quarto Account Book, and is made to lie hat open for convenience in 
 use 30 Cuj> 
 
 Blank Books for Day's Book-Keeping, We have for sale 
 
 Books of 9fi pages each, ruled according to tie patterns mentioned on pngo 
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 For General Book-keeping, pages 4 and o ; for Cash Account on page 13; 
 for Day-Boot in Single Eutrv, pages 15 to 25. tfo. 2— For Condensed Ac- 
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 Entry, passes 34 to 43. No. 3— For Ledgers in Double or Single Entry, pages 
 26to'44. Each Number 50 Cts. 
 
 How to Learn the Sense of 3,000 Erench Words in one 
 
 Hour. This ingenious little book actually accomplishes all that its title 
 claims. It is a fact that there are at least three thousand words in the 
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 versation, which are spelled exactly the same as ia English, or become the 
 same by very slight and easily understood changes in their termination. 16- 
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 How to Speak in Public; or, The Art of Extempore Oratory. 
 
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 greatest orators, exemplifying the importance of correct emphasis, clearness 
 of articulation, and appropriate gesture. Paper covers -4,5 CIS. 
 
 Live and Learn. A guide for all those who wish to speak and 
 
 write correctly; particularly intended as a Book of Reference for the solu- 
 tion of difficulties connected with Grammar, Composition. Punctuation, &c, 
 &c, containing examples of 1.000 mistakes of doily occurrence in speaking, 
 writing and pronunciation. Cloth, l6mo, 21 6 pages 75 ct3. 
 
 The Art of Dressing Well. By Miss S. A. Frost. This book is 
 designed for ladies and gentlemen "who desire to make a favorable impres- 
 sion upon society. Paper covers 30 cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 
 
 Thimm's French Self-Taught. A new system, on the most 
 
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 rendered less laborious and more thorough than by any of the old methods. 
 By Franz Thimm 25 Cts. 
 
 Thimm's German Self-Taught. Uniform with "French Self- 
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 ness and simplicity. By Franz Thimm 25 etn. 
 
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 the Spanish Language, arranged according to the same method as the 
 " French " and '* German," by the same author, and uniform with them iu 
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 Thimm's Italian Seif-Taught. Uniform in style and size with 
 the thrcQ foregoing books. By Franz Thimm 25 ets. 
 
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 CARD AND OTHER GAMES. 
 
 "Trump's" American Hoyle; or, Gentleman's Hand-Book 
 
 of Gaines. This work contains an exhaustive treatise on Whist, by William 
 Pole, F.R.S., and the rules tor playing that game as laid down ly the Hon. 
 James Clay. It also contains clear descriptions of all the games played 
 in the United States, with the American rules for playing them ; including 
 Euclire, Bezique, Cribbage, All Fours, Loo, Poker, Brag, Piquet, Pedro 
 Saucho, Penuchle, Railroad Euchre, Jack Pots, Ecarte, Boston. Catssino, 
 (Jhess, Checkers, Backgammon, Billiards, Dominoes, and a hundred other 
 games. This work is designed as an American authority in all games of 
 skill and chance, and ivill settle any disputed point. It has been prepared 
 with great care, and is not a rediash of English games, hut a live American 
 book, expressly prepared for American players. The Ameuicax Hoyle 
 contains .125 pages, is printed on line white paper, bound in cloth, with extra 
 gilt side and beveled boards, and is profusely illustrated £2.00 
 
 Tlie Modern Pocket Hoyle. By " Tramps." Containing all 
 
 the games of skill and chance, as played in this country at the present time, 
 being an "authority on all disputed points." This valuable manual is all orig- 
 inal, or thoroughly reyised from the best and latest authorities, and includes 
 the laws and complete directions for playing one hundred and eleven differ- 
 
 erent games. 386 pages, paper covers 50 CtS. 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 75 cts. 
 
 Bound iu cloth, gilt side and back $1.25 
 
 Hoyle's Games. A complete Manual of the laws that govern all 
 
 games of skill and chance, including Card Games, Chess, Checkers, Domi- 
 noes, Backgammon, Dice, Billiards (as played in this country at the present 
 time), and all Field Games. Entirely original, or thoroughly revised from 
 
 the latest and best American authorities. Paper covers 50 cts. 
 
 Boards 75 cts. 
 
 Cloth, gilt side $1.25 
 
 Walker's Cribbage Made Easy. Being a new and complete 
 
 Treatise on the Game in all varieties. By George Walker, Esq. A very 
 comprehensive work on this Game. It contains over 500 examples ot how 
 to discard for your own and your adversary's crib. 
 142 pages, bound in boards 50 CtS. 
 
 100 Tricks With Cards Exposed and Explained. By J. H. 
 
 Green, the Eeformed Gambler. This book exposes and explains all the 
 Mvsteries of the Gambling Tables. It is interesting not only to those who 
 
 play, but to those who do not. Paper covers aO CtS. 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back. OU Cts. 
 
 How Gamblers Win-, or, The Secrets of Advantage Play- 
 
 msr Exposed. Being a complete and scientific expose of the manner of 
 plaving all the various advantages in the various Card Games, as practiced 
 by 'professional gamblers. This work is designed as a warning to self-confi- 
 dent card-players. Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Cts. 
 
 DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 
 
 Box 3975. NEW YORK. 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 Marline's Sensible Letter- Writer. Bein^r a comprehensive 
 
 and complete Guide and Assistant for those who desire to carry on Episto- 
 lary Correspondence ; containing: a large collection of model letters on the 
 simplest matters of life, adapted to all ages and conditions— 
 
 EMBRACING, 
 
 Business Letters ; 
 
 A2>plications for Employment, with 
 Letters of Recommendation and 
 Answers to Advertisements ; 
 
 Letters between Parents and Children; 
 
 Letters of Friendly Counsel and lie- 
 monstrance ; 
 
 Letters soliciting Advice, Assistance 
 and Friendly Favors ; 
 
 Letters of Courtesy, Friendship and 
 Affection ,- 
 
 Letters of Condolence and Sympathy ,- 
 
 A Choice Collection of Love-Letters, 
 for Every Situation in a Court*' rip ,- 
 
 Notes of Ceremony, Familiar Invita- 
 tions, etc., together with Notes of 
 Acceptance and Regret. 
 
 The whole containing' 300 Sensible Letters and Notes. This is an invalua- 
 ble book for those persons who have not had sufficient practice to enable 
 them to write letters without great effort. It contains such a variety of 
 letters, that models may be found to suit every subject. 
 
 2)7 pages, bound in boards, cloth back 50 cts. 
 
 Bound" in cloth 75 Ct3. 
 
 Marline's Hand-Book of Etiquette and Guide to True 
 
 Politeness. A complete Manual for all those who desire to understand 
 good breeding, the customs of good society, and to avoid incorrect and 
 vulgar habits. Containing clear and comprehensive directions for correct 
 manners, conversation, dress, introductions, rules for good behavior at 
 Dinner Parties and the Table, with hints on carving and wine at tabic ; 
 together with the Etiquette of the Ball and Assembly Boom, Evening 
 Parties, and the usages to be observed when visiting or receiving calls'; 
 Deportment in the street and when traveling. To which is added the Eti- 
 quette of Courtship, Marriage, Domestic Duties and fifty-six rules to be ob- 
 served in general society. By Arthur Martiue. Bound in boards ..50 cts. 
 Bound in cloth, gilt sides 75 eta. 
 
 Dick's Quadrille Call-Book and Ball-Room Prompter. Con- 
 taining clear directions how to call out the figures of every dance, with tlio 
 quantity of music necessary for each figure, and simple explanations of till 
 the figures which occur in Plain and Fancy Quadrilles. This book gives 
 plain and comprehensive instructions how to dauce all the new and popular 
 dances, including the following: 
 
 TJie Parisian Varieties; 
 Tlte New French Quadrille; 
 The Waltz Quadrille,- 
 The Glide Lancers; 
 The Saratoga Lancers; 
 The Waltz Caledonians; 
 The Prince Imperial; 
 Tlie Caledonians and Lancers; 
 The Social, Basket and Gavotte Quad- 
 rilles,- 
 
 The Empire Quadrille; 
 
 The March, Star and Mazurka Quad- 
 
 rillcs; 
 The Cheat and Jig, London Polka, 
 
 and other Plain and Fancy QMid- 
 
 rilles,- 
 All the Round Dances, Reels and 
 
 Country Dances,- 
 The " German," with description of 
 
 the new Figures. 
 
 To which is added a Complete and Sensible G-uide for Etiquette and Proper 
 Deportment in the Ball and Assembly Boom, besides 108 pages of dance 
 
 music for the piano. Paper covers 50 Cts. 
 
 Bound in boards 75 C^i. 
 
 Wright's Book of 3,009 American Receipts. Containing 
 
 Cookery, Distilling:, Perfumery, Chemicals, Varnishes, Dyeing, Agriculture, 
 etc. lixuo, cloth, 359 pages T §1.50 
 
Popular Books sent £ree of Postage at the Price3 annexed. 
 
 Lola Montez' Arts of Beauty; or, Secrets of a Lady's 
 
 Toilet. Tl ith hints to Gentlemen on the Art of Fascinating. Lola Montez 
 Lore explains all the Arts employed by the celebrated beauties and fashion- 
 able la.hes iu Paris and other cities of Europe, for the purpose of preserving 
 their beaut; and improviug and developing their charms. The recipes nro 
 all clearly given, so that any person can understand them, and the work em- 
 braces the following subjects : 
 Uoiv to obtain such desirable a7id in 
 
 dispensable attractions as A Hand- 
 some. Form ; 
 
 A Bright and Smooth Skin ; 
 
 A Beautiful Complexion ; 
 
 A ttractive Eyes, Mouth and Lips ; 
 
 A Bea utiful Hand, Foot and Ankle ; 
 
 A Vt'ell-trained Voice; 
 
 A Soft and Abundant Head of Hair,- 
 Also, How to Remedy (fray Hair,- 
 And harmless but effectual methods of 
 removing Superfluous Hair end 
 oilier blemishes, with interesting in- 
 formation on these and kindred 
 matters. 
 
 Illuminated paper cover 25 cts. 
 
 Hillgrove's Ball -Room Guide and Complete Dancing- 
 Master. Containing a plain treatise on Etiquette andT>eportment at Balls 
 and Parties, with valuable hints on Dress and the Toilet, together with 
 
 Full Explanations of the Rudiments, 
 Terms, Figures and Steps used in 
 Dancing; 
 
 Including Clear and Precise Instruc 
 tionshow to dance all kinds of Quad 
 rilles, Waltzes, Folkas, Redowas 
 
 Reels, Round, Plain and Fancy 
 Dances, so that any person may 
 learn them without the aid of a 
 Teacher; 
 To which is added easy directions how 
 to call out the Figures 
 of every dance, and the amount of music required for each. Illustrated 
 with 176 descriptive engravings. By T. Hillgrove, Professor of Dancing. 
 
 Bound in cloth, with gilt side and back $1?6 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 75 ' Q fa 
 
 The Banjo, and How to Play it. Containing, in addition to 
 
 the elementary studies, a choice collection of Polkas. Waltzes, Solos. Schot- 
 tisches. Songs', Hornpipes, Jigs, Reels, etc., with full explanations of both 
 the ''Banjo' and "G-uitar" styles of execution, and designed to impart a 
 complete knowledge of the art of playing the Banjo practically, without tho 
 aid of a teacher. This work is arranged on the progressive "system, show- 
 ing the learner how to play the first few notes of a tune, then the 
 next notes, and so on, a small portion at a time, until he has mastered the 
 entire piece, every detail being as clearly and thoroughly explained as if lie 
 had a teacher at his elbow all the time. By Prank B. Converse, author of 
 the "Banjo without a Master." 16mo, bouud in boards, cloth back. .50 cts. 
 
 Bow's National Wages Tables. Showing at a glance the 
 amount of wages from half an hour to sixty hours, at from $1 to $37 per 
 week. Also from one-quarter of a day to four weeks, at $1 to i'.fi per week. 
 By Nelson Bow. By this book, which is particularly useful when part of a 
 week, day or hour is lost, a large pay-roll can be made out in a few minutes, 
 thus saving more time in making out one pay-roll than the cost of the book. 
 Every employer hiring help by the hour, day or week, and every employee, 
 should obtain one, as it will enable him to know exactly the amount of 
 money he is entitled to on pay-day. Half bound 50 cts. 
 
 Bow's Complete Fractional Beady-Beckoner. For buying 
 
 and selling any kind of merchandise, giving the fractional parts of a pound, 
 yard, etc., from one-quarter to one thousand, at any price from one-quarter 
 of a cent to five dollars. By Nelson Bow. 3b'mo, 23-,' pages, boards . . 50 ct2. 
 
 Blunders in Behavior Corrected. A book of Deportment for 
 
 both Ladies aud Gentlemen. By means of this book yon can learn the most 
 difficult phases in Etiquette, or behavior in good society L'j els. 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 
 Delisser's Horseman's Guide. Comprising the Laws on War- 
 ranty, and the Rules in purchasing and selling horses, with the decisions 
 and reports of various courts in Europe and the United States ; to which is 
 added a detailed account of what constitutes soundness and unsoundness, 
 and a precise method, simply laid down, for the examination of horses, 
 showing their age to thirty years old ; together with an exposure of the 
 various tricks and impositions practiced by low hoi-se-dealers (iockeys) on 
 inexperienced persons ; also, a valuable Table of each and every hone in the 
 structure of the Horse. By George P. Delisser, Veterinary Surgeon. 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back 75 Cts. 
 
 Bound in cloth $1.00 
 
 Brisbane's Golden Ready-Reckoner. Calculated in Dollars 
 
 and Cents. Showing at once t*he amount or value of any number of articles 
 or quantity of goodb, or any merchandise, either by the gallon, quart, pint, 
 ounce, pound, quarter, hiuufred, yard, foot, inch, bushel, etc., in an easy and 
 plain manner. To which are added Interest Tables, calculated in dollars 
 and cents, for days and for months, at six per cent, and at seven per cent, 
 per annum, alternately ; and a great number of other Tables and Rules for 
 calculation never before iu print. Bound in boards 35 Cts, 
 
 How to Cook Potatoes, Apples, Eggs and Fish, Four 
 
 Hundred Different Ways. Our lady friends will be surprised when they 
 examine this book, and find the great variety of ways that the same article 
 may be prepared and cooked. The work especially recommends itself to 
 those who are often embarrassed for want of variety in dishes suitable for 
 the breakfast-table, or on occasions where the necessity arises for preparing 
 
 a meal at short notice. Paper covers 30 cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts« 
 
 The American Housewife and Kitchen Directory. This val- 
 uable book embraces three hundred and seventy-eight recipes for cookinsr all 
 sorts of American dishes in the most economical manner; it also contains a 
 variety of important secrets for washing, cleaning, scouring and extracting 
 grease, paint, stains and iron-mould from cloth, muslin and linen. Bound in 
 
 ornamental paper covers 30 Ct3. 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts. 
 
 How to Cook and How to Carve. Giving plain and easily 
 
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 book is just the thing for a young Housekeeper. It is worth a dozen of ex- 
 pensive French books. Paper covers 30 Ct3. 
 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 Ct3. 
 
 The American Home Cook Book. Containing several hun- 
 dred excellent recipes. The whoie based on many years' experience of an 
 American Housewife. Illustrate I with engravings. All the Recipes in 
 
 this book are written from actual experience in Cooking. Paper 30 cts. 
 
 Bound in boards, cloth back 50 Cts. 
 
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 also, full explanations in the artof Carving. 126 pages, paper covers. 30 Cts. 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back 50 cts. 
 
 How to Mix all Kinds of Fancy Drinks. Containing clear and 
 
 reliable directions for mixing all the "beverages used in the United States. 
 Erabraeinvr Punches. .Tnleps. Cobblers. Cocktails, etc., etc., in endless variety. 
 
 Bv Jerry Thomas. Illuminated paper covers ....50 cts. 
 
 Bound in full cloth 75 cts. 
 
Popular Books sent Free of Postage at the Prices annexed. 
 
 What. Shall We Do To-Night? or, Social Amusements for 
 
 Evening Parties. This elegant book affords an almost inexhaustible fund of 
 amusement for evening parties, social gatherings and all festive occasions, 
 ingeniously grouped together so as to furnish complete and ever-varying 
 entertainment for Twenty-six evenings. Its repertoire embraces all the beat 
 round and forfeit games, clearly described and rendered perfectly plain by 
 original and amusing examples, interspersed with a great variety of ingenious 
 puzzles, entertaining tricks and innocent sells ; new and original Musical 
 and Poetical pastimes, startling illusions and mirth-provoking exhibi- 
 tions; including complete directions and text for performing Charades. 
 Tableaux. Parlor Pantomimes, the world-renowned Punch and Judy. Gr.l- 
 lanty Shows and original Shadow-pantomimes; also, full information for the 
 sueccssful performance of Dramatic Dialogues and Parlor Theatricals, with 
 a selection of Original Plays, etc., written expressly for this work. It is em- 
 bellished with over one hundred descriptive and* explanatory engravings, 
 and contains 366 pages, printed on fine toned paper. Extra cloth. . . §2.1* 
 
 The Secret Out: or, 1,000 Tricks with Cards, and Other 
 
 Itecreations. Illustrated with over 300 engravings. A book which ex- 
 plains all the Tricks and Deceptions with Playing Cards ever known, and 
 gives, besides, a great many new ones. The whole being described so care- 
 fully, with engravings to illustrate them, that anybody can easily learn how 
 to perform them. This work also contains 240 of the best Trick s"of Legerde- 
 main, in addition to the Card Tricks. Such is the uneriing process of in- 
 struction atloited in this volume, that no reader can fail to succeed in ex- 
 ecuting every Trick, Experiment. Game, etc., set down, if he will at all de- 
 vote his attention, in his leisure hours, to the subject; and, as abno>t every 
 trick with cards known will be found in this collection, it maybe considered 
 the only complete work on the subject ever published 
 12mo, 400 pages, bound in cloth, gilt side and back §1. 50 
 
 The Magician's Own Book; or, The Whole Art of Con- 
 
 jurmff, A complete hand-book of Parlor Magic, containing over a thou- 
 sand Optical, Chemical, Mechanical, Magnetic and Magical Experiments, 
 Amusing Transmutations, Astonishing Sleights and Subtleties, Celebrated 
 Card Deceptions, Ingenious Tricks with Numbers, curious and entertaining 
 Puzzles, the Art of Secret Writing, together with all the most noted tricks 
 of modern performers. Illustrated with over 500 wood-cuts, the whole 
 forming a comprehensive guide for amateurs. 12mo, cloth, gilt 81.60 
 
 The Sociable; or, One Thousand and One Home Amuse- 
 ments. Containing Acting Proverbs, Dramatic Charades, Acting Cha- 
 rades or Drawing-room Pantomimes, Musical Burlesques, Tableaux Vivants, 
 Parlor Games, Games of Action, Forfeits, Science in Sport and Parlor 
 Magic, and a choice collection of curious Mental and Mechanical Puzzles, 
 etc. Illustrated with numerous engravings and diagrams. The whole be- 
 ing a fund of never-ending entertainment. 376 pages.cloth, gilt $1.50 
 
 Athletic Sports for Boys. A Kepository of Graceful Eecrea- 
 tions for Youth, containing clear and complete instructions in Gymnastics, 
 Limb Exercises, Jumping, Pole- Leaping. Dumb Bells, Indian Clubs. Paral- 
 lel Bars, the Horizontal Bar, the Trapeze, the Suspended Popes, and the 
 manly accomplishments of Skating, Swimming, Bowing, Sailing. Horse- 
 manship, Biding, Driving, Angling, Fencing and Broadsword. Illustrated 
 with 194 wood-cuts. Bound in boards 75 CtS. 
 
 The Youn^ Reporter; or, How to Write Short-Hand. A 
 
 Complete Phonographic Teacher, intended as a School-book, to afford thor- 
 . o'io:li instructions to those who have not the assistance of an Oral Teacher. 
 By the aid of this work, any person of the most ordinary intelligence may 
 learn to write Rliort-Ha-nd. and report Speeches and Sermons in a short time. 
 Bound in boards, with cloth back'. 50 Ct3. 
 
GOOD BOOKS 
 
 Sent ITree of Postage at the Prices Marked. 
 
 ♦ ♦ > 
 
 Le Marchand's Fortune Teller and Dream Book, 85 cts. 
 
 Tbo Young Reporter; or, How to Write ShortHand, 50 " 
 
 Brisbane's Golden Eeady-Beckoner, 35 " 
 
 The American Hoyle; or, Gentleman's Book of Games, 2 00 " 
 
 The Book of Biddies, and 500 Amusements, 50 " 
 
 The Parlor Magician, 200 Illustrations, 50 " 
 
 Parlor Tricks with Cards, 50 " 
 
 Hillgrove's BallBoom Guide, 75 " 
 
 Pettengill's Fortune Teller and Dream Book, 35 " 
 
 Chesterfield's Etiquette and Letter Writer combined, 35 " 
 
 Fontaine's Golden Wheel Dream Book and Fortune Teller, 35 " 
 
 Everlasting Fortune Teller and Magnetic Dream Book, 30 " 
 
 100 Gamblers' Tricks with Cards Exposed, - 30 " 
 
 Willis' Etiquette and Usages of Society, - 13 " 
 
 Richardson's Monitor of Freemasonary, 125 " 
 
 The Perfect Gentleman; or, Etiquette and Eloquence, 1 50 " 
 
 The Ladies' Fortune Teller of Love, Courtship, and Marriage, 30 " 
 
 How to Play Whist, Euchre, Loo, and Poker, 13 " 
 
 Horse Taming, as practiced by J. H. Rarey, 13 " 
 
 Knowlson's Complete Farrier and Horse Doctor, 13 " 
 
 Al-Ma-Kan-Tur Circle ; or, How to Win a Sweetheart or Lover, —25 " 
 
 Book of Fireside Games for Home Amusement, 50 " 
 
 Book of 500 Curious Puzzles, withlOO Illustrations, 50 " 
 
 The Secret Out ; or, 1,000 Tricks with Cards, 150 " 
 
 How to Mix Drinks, containing 800 Recipes, 2 50 " 
 
 Chesterfield's Art of Letter- Writing Simplified, 13 " 
 
 The Laws of Love ; or, How to Conduct a Courtship, 30 " 
 
 H*v to Woo and How to Win; or, Rules for Courtship, 13 " 
 
 Bridal Etiquette, with Rules for Bridesmaids, 13 " 
 
 Howto Behave; or, The Spirit of Etiquette, 13 " 
 
 Mind Your Stops ; or, Punctuation Made Plain, 13 " 
 
 Dictionaryof 3,000 Abbreviations, 13 " 
 
 Blunders in Behavior Corrected ■* 13 " 
 
 How to Talk and Debate, 13 " 
 
 Ladies' Guide to Beauty, containing over 500 Recipes, 25 " 
 
 Ladies' Guide to Crochet Cloth,Gilt, 125 " 
 
 The American Home Cook Book, 30 " 
 
 Live and Learn; or, 1,000 Mistakes in Speaking and Writing 
 
 Corrected, 75 " 
 
 Morgan's Freemasonary Exposed and Explained, 25 *' 
 
 Boxing Made Easy, and How to Wrestle, 13 " 
 
 Courtship Made Easy ; or, the Art of Making Love fully Explained, 13 " 
 
 Ladies' Guide to Beauty. By Lola Montez, 75 " 
 
 The Game of Checkers Simplified and Explained, - 50 " 
 
 Sexv* C*a* Orders to DICK & FITZGERALD, 
 
 Publishers, Ko. 18 Ann Street, New York. 
 
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