^ »°° «r • 1 1 %$v ^ ••^SKV. * 5 M^ • H O N ^ .7&H&-. \/ A w °« bv* *d&k\ V*° ;3ft& %/ » ^ bt? f\» • • • » ▼ ■%. « o . ,^ „^. ^^ -fig? & Old Good-by's and Howdy-do's Bv John D. Wells Author of "Swazv rolks" With drawings bv Lester J. Ambrose Buffalo, N. Y. Otto Ulbrich Co. 191 I Copyright, 191 i BY JOHN D. WELLS 4, OTTO ULBRICH CO.. BUFFALO, N. Y. ©CU303374 Go MY MOTHER THIS LITTLE BOOK OF VERSE IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED AUTHOR'S NOTE. To the courtesy of the following publications the author is indebted for permission to reprint the verses in this volume : Lippincotfs Magazine, Harpers' Weekly, Judge, Delineator, Ladies' Home Journal, and Designer. Also to Mr. Edward H. Butler, owner and proprietor of the Buffalo Evening News, for whose publication many of them were written. . . . They are sweet inside. I would rather have done them, or have the fine inner integrity to have done them — than to be Canal-Builder or Master of pan- Continental Air-lanes. They restore and brighten the deep places. . . . And when you put them by, and fall to dreaming among the ineffable partings and greetings that have been stealing away after some pale vision or lustrous wing of remembrance . pray, don't hurry back, for you may be drawing very close to Yourself — the Kingdom of Heaven which lies within. WILL LEVINGTON COMFORT. Vll CONTENTS AN APPRECIATION MY PIPE .... DAYTIME IN MAYTIME . "AFTERWHILE" . APPERTAININ' TO YOUNG 'UNS SUNDAY THOUGHTS A YOUNG 'UN IN POKEBERRY TIME OUR YESTERDAYS . A CAVALRYMAN OLD GOOD-BYES AND HOWDY-DO 's MY EYES AIN'T AS GOOD AS THEY WAS CHICK-A-REE CRICK IN PENNSYLVANY THE TOWN JOKER " M-O-T-H-E-R ! " .... MAIRY ELLEN .... OLD JIM WADE .... A PROTEST ..... ix PAGE I 3 5 7 9 io 12 13 15 17 19 20 22 23 25 27 29 Contents TEMPTED .... HIPPERCRITS U JES' ONE STORY MORE" TO A LITTLE BOY H. SIMMS' S NEW DAUGHTER-IN-LAW OL' DOC FOLINSBEE BEN TARR ON EDUCATION OLD CHUMS RE-UNITED . SOME REAL FIDDLI^ CALLIN' THE ROLL A DAMPER ON DISCIPLINE THE EXILE AND THE CITY CHRISTMAS CHEER AT HOME . FALLTIME IN SWAZY THE OLD ROSE DRESS FREDERIC REMINGTON . 'LIGE HAWKINS FIDDLIN' UP YENDER THE STREET THAT LEADS TO HOME A FACE IN A CROWD THE PRICE .... A DESERTED CABIN Contents XI SPRING IN THE COUNTRY AND TOWN THE ONLY FRIENDS THE TWO BARRIERS THE MAN WHO USED TO KNOW YOU WHEN YOU DID N'T HAVE A CENT post-meetin' NIGHT ol' tin-peddlin' man . the perfect home to the halfway house again the little things the little boy from the poor farm the end of the journey the exile from home . the separation .... a job for doc sifers "when the big hand points upstairs.' the summer evening . the lone grave in the shenandoah sometime ..... defyin' affliction a hopeless debtor PAGE 71 72 74 76 79 81 83 84 87 88 90 9i 92 94 96 98 99 101 102 103 Xll Contents PAGE HOMESICK . TO A CHILD . THE LITTLE OLD MAX WITH THE RAGGEDY THE CHURCH AT WEBBSES' CORNERS WHEN MOTHER 's AWAY UNDER THE EVENING LAMP TO LITTLE HALF-PAST FOUR IN grandpa's EYES ma's BOY A DREAM august days the failure 44 ketchup" the void in to-day an old man said : an old sayin' of mother's decoration day at swazy "jist about now" enforced friendship . a sure cure for general debility 44 tyfoid-blues " .... DOLL Contents xm AN ANNIVERSARY KITCHEN INTERRUPTIONS DIVINE SERVICE THE WEARINESS OF CHILDHOOD ANALOGY PAGE 144 146 147 149 151 Old Good-by's and Howdy-do's AN APPRECIATION. OL* Home Folks! It 'pears you 're jist Happiest an' bizziest Fixin' up t' welcome in Some one comin' home agin! Some ol' codger, like as not, That has mebbe plumb fergot You — an' folks fergot him too! — Ever' one exceptin' you! Rassle out his easy chair, Put it by the fire there Where he used t' set, an' git His ol' footstool out an' fit Things in same ol' order most Like he used t' have 'em, so's't When he shucks his boots he kin Say: "I jucks, I 'm home agin!" 01' Home Folks! I tell y' what, I 've done heaps o' travellin' but i .An Appreciation Layin' 'side all sorts o* jokes, If there 's any class o' folks Measure up t' God's idee Of what man had orter be — Meets requirements through an' through- Then, I jucks, that class is you! MY PIPE. 1ASK no better friend, my pipe, than you have been to me, Or truer one to lean upon in dark adversity; When cheer abounds and living teems with love and laughter true, Of all of those I count my friend I rather smile with you. The things I like, you too, prefer; how oft youVe shown your praise When I have left the open road and sought the wood- land ways Where breezes wave a green baton for singers red as flame — In music as in other things our taste is much the same. In books, as well, our loves are like; how pleasantly you 've glowed As clinging to Mulvaney's hand we 've trod the Bar- racks Road, Or gone with Field to Sabine Farm and lands of "Just Pretend"— Whatever faults you have you choose the best of books, my friend. 3 4 My Pipe A life of sweet companionship with not a thing to mar — No quarrel, words, or differences to leave a single scar — No poor regrets for what has passed or what our futures hold, But solace in the thought that we, together, shall grow old. I always crave your fellowship until the end of day When comes the pattering of feet from out the bed- room way, The time for fun, the time for love, when pudgy hands caress — The only rivals for my heart that you, my pipe, possess. DAYTIME IN MAYTIME. DAYTIME in Maytime— it holds y' like a fetter! Every day a perfeck one excep 1 the next one 's better! World a-smilin', fresh an' new, an' all per- fumed with clover, Pepp'mint an' pennyroyal that 's sproutin' up all over. Daytime in Maytime, so dreamy-like an' lazy — Things enough t' think about t' drive a feller crazy! Time for ploughin', seedin' down — I railly should begin it, Where 's the man kin do it, though, an 1 take an interest in it? Daytime in Maytime ! It seems a feller orter Stake a claim beside the crick an' lay an' watch the worter Slippin' on, an' wavin' to him whilst it 's loafin' by him — Mebbe see a pick'url "break" an' cast a hook an' try him! Daytime in Maytime! Oh, where 's the equal of it? Orter shet my teeth I s'pose, an' cuss instead o' love it, 5 6 Daytime in Maytime 'Cause no matter what I plan that even seems like workin', May comes on an' teaches me the gentle art o* shirkin* ! Daytime in Maytime! I '11 sacrifice my Duty — Gladly — on the altar place of May's etarnal beauty! Every day that follers on is brighter than the past one — Every May that comes along is better than the last one! "AFTERWHILE." AFTERWHILE" we say, an' sit Musin'-like an' dream of it — Thinkin' what we '11 be an' do " Af terwhile " when dreams come true, Foolin' our fool selves, y' see — Humanlike — with that idee That the afterwhiles are best, Hullsomest an' happiest. Ain't no blame attached t' none — That 's what folks have alius done, Drempt about their afterwhiles, Rubbed their hands an' forced their smiles Childish-like, an' I allow Never stopped t' think of how "Af terwhile" 's the saddest word That a mortul ever heard ! "Af terwhile" when spring comes on, Orchard blossoms come an' gone, Summer gloamin's, shadders, too, Breathe of age to me an' you! — Then our eyes won't be so bright, Nor so keen to sense delight — 7 "AfterwHile" Things will be more common, and Like enuff look second hand! "Afterwhile" my child, y' see, You won't be the same to me — We can't never romp nor play Like we used t' do, nor say "Squidum rhymes" er tromp an' shout, 'Count o' bein' talked about! Afterwhiles? My law, they jest P'vent the didoes we like best ! 11 Afterwhile" an* then it seems Life consists of dreamin' dreams — Dreams of things we did n't do, Yes, an 7 vicy-versy, too! No sir-e-e-e, I 'lectioneer For the whiles that 's now an' here — Would n't swap their cheer an' smiles For etarnal afterwhiles! APPERTAINS TO YOUNG 'UNS. YOUNG 'uns! Ain't they jest the wors'! Lawsey me, I gess there jest Ain't none in the Universe Nowise diflurnt from the rest ! Swanny, I ain't never saw Young 'uns eat — an' ain't it queer? — 'Thout they 'd cry an' holler "Ma Did n't put no sugar here!" Never saw a young 'un yit, Gals or boys or ennything — Speshully boys — that did n't git Idee in his head 't was spring Jest as soon as snow was gone! Lawsey, but they kick a row, All their teasin', takin' on: 11 Ma kin I go barefoot now? 11 I don't s'pose no parunts live But have put their tikes t' bed, Taught 'em how t' be fergive, Tucked 'em in from heels t' head, Then gone out, an' bimeby Jest as they got ripe t' think, Heerd them dadburned young 'uns cry "Pa," or "Ma, I want a drink!' 1 9 SUNDAY THOUGHTS. SUNDAY, in the city, with its fine display an' show — Ain't it different from the Sunday that the country people know! Different — oh, so different ! — is its hurry an' its rush, From the simple, holy silence an' the God-inspired hush Country folks remember, who have up an' moved t' town, An' it makes us sort o' lonesomelike when Sunday comes aroun' ; Luggin' in your fashions, an' your doin's, seems so odd, Like a worldly grant t* Satan an' a compermis2 with God. Sunday in the city! Why, there 's nary bell or chime That a man can tune his heart with when it comes t' meetin time! Not a sound, I reckon, turnin' worldly thoughts away, Makin' Sunday any different from most any^other day ! An' your city "meetin"'! Do y' s'pose your hired choir Sings their music any sweeter or their anthems any higher 10 Sunday THo\igHts 1 1 Than the village singers who are only volunteer? — Do y' s'pose that God don't listen 'cause they only sing by ear? Sunday in the country! Can't y' hear the meetin' bells Ringin' out upon the mornin\ and the message that each tells? — How the feast is waitin' an' the holy bread is broke An' the speerit waits communion with the honest, simple folk? Can't y' hear the singin' an' the long endurin' prayer, An' the lazy bees a-dronin' through the open windows there ? Can't y' see the parunts with their young 'uns in be- tween? Can't y' hear the swish an' rustle of some ancient bombazine? City an' the country ! Oh, we ' ve always been apart ! An' it ain't so much, I reckon, in the standards of our heart As it is in habits; why, I believe we both are good An' we 'd like each other better if we only understood. I ain't criticism' how you keep your Sabbath da; For I s'pose the Lord considers that it 's city folkses' ways, But I can't help a-thinkin' you 'd be glorified and blest By a Sunday in the count ry with its holiness an' rest. A YOUNG 'UN IN POKEBERRY TIME. GIVE me the knack an' the power t' rhyme The face of a young 'un in pokeberry time — Some sort o' rhyme that '11 picture him there, His round bullet head an' his tow-colored hair, Eyes filled with fun 'til they brim like a cup, A nose that is freckled an' sort o' pinched up, Mouth stretched in smiles like a circus show clown, All pokeberry stain an' the juice runnin' down. Give me a song that 's as honest as his — A song that '11 sing of the boy as he is, Just as he is, with the grime an' the dirt An' pokeberry juice on his "hickory" shirt — Juice on his chin an' his nose an' his ears, An 1 juice in his hair, but there 's nobody keers! Pirate of Boyhood a-lootin' the lands, The guilt of the pokeberry 's blood on his hands ! Give me a rhyme where there 's somewhere a word As ringin' an' clear as his laughter I 've heard — Somethin' 'twixt poetry, music, an' joy As keerless an' real as a berry-stained boy — Somethin' a feller kin weave int' rhyme An' tell of a young 'un in pokeberry time! Give me all these an' I '11 sing y', I jing, A song sweet as ever a mortal kin sing! 12 OUR YESTERDAYS. WE Ye traced our sweetest dreams, my dear, in yonder fire's glow, And never thought the pictures there were of a Long Ago: Unmindful of the fleeting years we 've wandered on, we two, And you have been the same to me and I the same to you — Your voice as sweet and hair as jet as ever, till to-night I saw a single strand of gray reflect the ruddy light, A single silver}- strand of gray 't was burnished by the ra; And then I knew the time has come when we have Yesterdays ! I had not ceased to think of you as blithe and young and fair, And I as strong and straight as when I waited on you there, Until to-night ! Our youngest one sat here upon my knee And looked into my eyes for long and studied ear- nestly, 13 14 Our "Yesterdays Then looked at you, and said at length — my heart was fairly wrung! — "I 'm trying to picture how you looked when she and you were young!" I tried to laugh it all away, but dear, through all the haze There came the thought, "The time has come when we have Yesterdays!" A CAVALRYMAN. (A tale of a Southwest army post.) THIS is a tale of a trooper, a fellow who had no God— Who earned his pay on a scrubby bay at the left of a ragged squad: Booted and spurred and cursing, with nary a thought of good, He made but one, as the rosters run, of the Fighting Brotherhood. Booted and spurred and cursing he cantered the scrubby bay, And none can tell of the desert spell that lured the man away ! Back came the mare to her masters, free of her reins and load, x\nd fast in the sheer of her saddle gear, a word from the man who rode. "Water — gone," he had written: "I reckin I got t' quit: I did have some but the showdown come and the mare was a-needin' it! 15 16 A Cavalryman Only — wanted — a — swallow t' cut out the dirt and the sand — I tried t' tell the critter but — hell! — she never could understand." Somewhere out in the Yonder, out on a scorching clod, He 's gone to sleep in a sun-dried heap — the Fellow Who Had No God! Yet, when the judgment 's passing and virtues no more are dim, I sometimes think that a man like this will stand at the right of Him! - OLD GOOD-BYES AND HOWDY-DO'S. THE old good-byes and howdy-do's! Now there 's a theme to tax your muse An' make it switch from tears t' smiles An' back again to tears, the whiles; No polished rhyme, but jist a strain As soft an' low as Apurl rain, That sings "good-bye" to kith an' kin — Then change your tune t' Home Agin! Oh, who can dream the sort o' rhyme That sheds the tears of leavin' time? — Good-bye t' mother, smutched with dough !— The stanchest friend you '11 ever know! — To home, to trees, the huntin' pup, An' crimson ramblers climbin' up To twist around the heart of you, An' tighter than they ever do ! An' sing it soft an' low to fit The partin' an' the pain of it! — To fit the way a feller feels When ol' familiar places steals Apast him on the wagon road — The boyhood spots he 's alius knowed ! 2 17 1 8 Old Good-Byes and Howdy-Do's An' make the tear that 's in his eye To rhyme a feller's last "good-bye." Then chuck a faster tempo in To sing a feller Home Agin! — Back home agin where he was riz ArC orter staid, as sayin' is! His mother's greetin', father's too, An' friends an' naybors' "Howdy-do!" The extry chair an' table set, That mother 's keepin' for him yet! i You poet chaps! You set an' dream, An' seem t' think the only theme That people like is in the skies ! Set down by me an* drop your eyes — Ease off a while an' git your tine In perfeck pitch an' tune with mine, Then try a sort o' keerless muse On "Or Good-byes an' Howdy-do's." My eyes ain't as good as they rvas MY EYES AIN'T AS GOOD AS THE/ WAS. OLD faces, old friends, an' old happiness, too, Old haunts that I cherish an' love, Old pleasures an' naybors an' folks that I knew An' jist can't see anything of — What 's come of 'em all? Ain't there none left a'tall? Or mebbe it 's only because It 's me that can't see 'em, for, donblame it all, My eyes ain't as good as they was! Old cronies and comrades ! Oh, where have they gone? It can't be they 've gone on before; Why is it that none of 'em — nary a one ! — Comes down to the village no more? I can't recollect seem' hide nor a hair Of one of 'em ! Mebbe it 's 'cause I pass 'em an' prob'ly don't know who they air, For my eyes ain't as good as they was. I want to look into their faces once more, An' feel all the heft of their hand, An' talk about folks we remember before, An' things that old men understand, But — blame it, my eyes are a-runnin' again! I reckon all old fellers' does From bein' out in the wind, an' — an' — then My eyes ain't as good as they was! 19 CHICK-A-REE CRICK IN PENNSYLVANY. (After havin' got about tired waitin' fer some poet to come along an' sing about Chick-a-ree as it orter be sung, I 'm goin' t' try it myself in a sort o' keer- less fashion.) SLOPIN' banks of Chick-a-ree!— Worter crawlin' slow an' free 'Twixt its flanks of velvet-fine Tinted up with dandyline — Past the willers, past the mill, Fallin' over "Parkin's Spill" Through the "narrers," tumblin' out, Stoppin' there t' spin about, Then t' rest an' listen to Thrush's song or pigeon's coo ; — Shamiri mortul man a lot With the happy way it 's got! Injun name — first pioneer Teamed it in an' settled here, Heerd 'em call it "Chick-a-ree," Meanin' "worter runnin' free" — "Chick-a-ree" we call it still, An' I guess we alius will. 20 CKicK-a-ree CricK in Pennsylvania 21 Runs so dreamylike an' slow, Seems t' me that if y'd throw- Chip in there 't would foller straight Where its dusky sponsors wait — Through the woods an' on — an' on — Where their birch canoes is gone! Worter cold an' crisp an' clare, Mirrorin' the pitchers there Of the trees an' skies of blue, An' the world it 's loafin' through — Flashin' up, as like as not, Pitchers that I 've nigh fergot — Freckled boys with tousseled hair, Used t' loaf an' peer in there! Ever' ripple, pool, an' rift Seems t' set my thoughts adrift — Seems t' have peculiar knack Of recallin' mem'ries back! 'T was n't made t' seine er fish — Jest t' dream beside an' wish, Jest t' lop beside an' stretch 01' roomatick bones, an' ketch Speerit of this world o' His Deeper than the worter is! — Souse yer body in it, too — Let it soak y' through an' through! Ain't no dadburned poet's song Half so sweet, ner half so long, As the song o' Chick-a-ree Singin' in the heart of me ! THE TOWN JOKER. BIDE APPLEBEE he sez t' me A spell ago, he sez, sez he, "What was it that you give your horse The time it had the botts?" O' course That bein' sort o' in my line I sez, "I give him turpentine." It run along fer quite a spell, A month or mebbe more an' — well One evenin' 'Bide come int' town An' hitched his team an' settled down In Parkin's store against a sack — His face was long 's a wagon track! "What was it, Hi," he sez t' me, "You give your horse fer botts?" sez he; "Jist turpentine," I sez, an ; 'Bide Sez, "So did I, but my horse died!" "Well, so did mine," I sez, an' cussed 'F I did n't think them boys would bust! 22 "M-O-T-H-E-R!" FIFTY times, or more, a day Hear 'em call her thataway!- Out t' play perhaps, or fetch Kindlin' wood or mebbe ketch Hens or shoo the turkey-cocks Out o* reach o' chicken hawks; Somethin' in their eyes, or got Stung by wassups, like as not, Fingers pinched, or gypsies nigh — Anything that makes 'em cry Sends 'em to the house from play- First oddrotted thing they say Is: " M-o-t-h-e-r!" "Mother" this an' "mother" that 'Til she don't know where she 's at 'Twixt her pans an' kittles and Young 'uns all around her! "Land," She-says-she, "let up on maw! Why not go an' ask your paw Jest fer change?" an' then, blame-don, Tells 'em how they 're wearin' on Feelin's, nerves, an' ears an' sich, "Mother'in"' every whip-an'-stitch ! 23 24 "M-o-t-H-e-r" Talks 'em quiet, purty nigh, 'Til she 's interrupted by "M-o-trhre-r!" Yit, for all her takin' on 'Bout their pesterin', blame-don, When they went with Uncle Joe Up t' see the circus show — First an' only day she jest Railly had a chance t' rest ! — What 'd she do? She set an' set, Handkerchuf jist wringin' wet ; "Give that quarter section there," She declared, "throw in the mare, Heifers, too — an' grain — an' hay — Jist t' hear one young 'un say: 'M-o-t-h-e-r.'" MAIRY ELLEN. I WISH that some day God would put the magic in my pen To weave her beauty into rhyme, the way I saw her then! I wish He 'd guide my pen t' write of Sunday afternoon The way it used t' be at Jim's, all sunny sweet with June, Then help me trace the softest lines to pitcher Mairy there Before her ol' melodeum, as purty, sweet an' fair As June itself outside the door — an' then, if it could be, Would help me hum the song she played: "Then You '11 Remember Me." She wa'n't like others — Mairy wa'n't — "She 's wilful," Jim would say; She wore them highfalutin' things an' used t' play crokay An' go to dances like as not, or if some city chap Come gallivantin' 'round perhaps she 'd sort o' set her cap An* 'fore he knowed she 'd ketch him too, an' shock the nayborhood ! But, lawsy me, I never thought she 's nothin' else but good — 25 26 Mairy Ellen She had the stamp o' goodness on as any one could see Who ever heerd her play an' sing "Then You '11 Re- member Me." It has been said the good die young an' — well, I guess it 's so, Else why would He take Mairy home before her time t' go? An* left her pa an' ma alone — all soul alone! — at hum, To dream of Mairy Ellen there at her melodeum A-singin' of them ol' time songs, like what she used t' do, That June an' all the world outside would stop an' listen to! An' through the tears that dim his eyes I reckin Jim can see Jist what she meant when Mairy sung "Then You '11 Remember Me." OLD JIM WADE. (Somethin' about Old Jim Wade, veteran soldier, who drummed all through the army an* now he 's drammm' for the Perry Cornet Band an' drummin' darned good yit !) OLD Jim Wade of the First Dragoons ! He 's still drummin' them army tunes, Jist as lively an' jist as free — Jist as grand as they used t' be ! Tunes the soldiers remembers yit — Tunes recallin' the days they fit Under the guidons of "Little Phil" From Harper's Ferry t' Fisher's Hill. Back when the nation was needin' sons Most of 'em natcherly took t' guns, 'Ceptin' Jim an' he says — says he: "I choose sticks an' a drum for me," — Took 'em, too, an' the old Dragoons All remember his stirrin' tunes Minglin' still with the battle shout Drummin' blues an' the rebels out ! Peace come on an' the war's alarms Come to end, an' they dropped their arms 27 28 Old Jim Wade 'Cordin' to orders — excepting Jim — Said that it did n't apply to him! He allowed that the terms that come Did n't refer to a feller's drum! Then he come home an" he turned a hand Play::.' the snare for the village band. Nowadays when the band goes by, Uniformed an' a-steppin' high, The}' 're possessed of the fool idee They 're the attraction, but no sir-e-e-e. People ginerally looks for Jim, Realizin' they see in him — Smallest man in the band, an' last — The soul of battle a-marchin' pas: ! Like exmfi "hen the Judgment 's come They '11 be needin' a man t' drum — Some one to lead all the shadow he Of the boys that won an' the boys that lost ; :2r '11 summon him loud an' clear; •'Drummer Wade?" an' he '11 answer "Here!" Then Peter '11 order, as stiff as starch ; • • Havioot !— Strawfoot !— For'rd \— March!" A PROTEST. FOR thirty years now, come an' gone, Since Elder Hawkins made us one, I 've lived with ma, 'cept off an' on When she 's been off a-visitun Her fambly's folks at Turkey Hatch, An ' left me home a-keepin' bach; An ' all I 've got t' say for ma I could n't write if I should try. Her cookin' — kindness an ' — my law She 's railly saintly, mighty nigh, Excep' her habit, that endures, Of overdoin' fambly cures! * ' ' Scorcht my pelt With her mustard 'til I 've smelt My past record! Then, blame-don, Socked a cayenne plaster on Small o' my back "because," says ma, "Sometimes mustard fails t' draw!'' Soaked my feet in worter hot 'Xuff t' bile 'em, like as not! Planked her flatirons 'round me too — Liked t' burnt the covers through! Gargled me with liniment 'Til I gagged an' felt content 29 30 -A. Protest To forgit the ills I had 'Cause the cure was :~ ice as bad! Bled me! An 1 spread poultices 'Crosst my inn'ards 'til I jis' T-". " Doggone it anyhow Wish old Gabe would trumpet now!" Then the worst o' mother's faults Follered after — Epsom salts! — Jimmie-e-e. they alius spile Fambly ties an' reconcile Me t' death an' I-thinks-I "Lord, thy servant 's drawin' nigh!" When I git so weak an' pain Racked that I jist can't complain Ma she smiles an' whispers, "Wes, Fever ? s goin' down I guess — Ain't no misery endures 'Gainst my good ol' fashioned cures." Thirty years now, come an' gone, She 's doctored me by fits an' starts, With mustard plasters — off er on — Er maybe somethin' else that smarts, 7:1 I 'd give up a half I own T' enjoy a sickness once — alone! TEMPTED. JUST to see the dawning of another country day, Just to see the glint again on meadow grass and clover, Just to see the morning sun kiss all the dew away And spread in golden patches all the smiling coun- try over. Just to tread the bank again where roguish waters pass. Just to hear their music like a friendly fiddle play- mcr Just to be the target for a kill-dee's noisy M sa That nests among the branches of the leafy sumach swaying. Just to stretch my length again beside the fishing hole. Somewhere in the silence where the stream has ceased its prating, Just to feel the thrill again along an alder pole And meet the test of patience in the simple knack of waiting. Just to go and be a part of what I used to know. Just to tune my heart again with summer's drowsy humming — This alone would tempt me to forget my task and go When vagrant breezes whisper through my open window: "Coming?" 31 HIPPERCRITS. THE time we ast the preacher here fer afternoon an' tea My mother sed I had t' act as good as I kin be; I had t' keep my necktie on an' ansur "mam?" an* "sir?" An' use my hankerchef without no reprimand from her, An* bow my head an' keep it bowed until "fer Jesus sake," An* must n't ast fer sugar er anuther piece of cake, An* be a little gennleman, an' nevur say a word 'Cause fellers 'bout the size o' me is seen an' never heard. An' ma she told my father 'at he *d have t' polish up His manners too, an' must n't stick his crackers in his cup Ner souse his bread in coffee like he alius likes t' do, An' had t' keep his elbows off the dinner table, too, An' had t' wear a napkin, an' not chuck it in his chin, But lay it crossways on his lap an' stick a corner in — An' lock the puppy in the barn because she did n't keer T' have no pup t' bother when the minister was here. 32 Hippercrits 33 An' when the preacher got around that evenin' pa an* me Was 'zackly like she told us, jes' as good as we cud be, An' listened to him tell about "the hippercrits in church Who prey on holy people, an' who tarnish an' be- smirch The house of faith," an' give "the cause of piety a taint By tryin' t' make the world believe that they are what they ain't"; An' ma an' pa agreed with him in ever 'thing I guess, 'Cause ever 'thing he sed to 'em the both of 'em sed "yes." An' when the preacher 'd gone away then ma she sed t' me T come an' set beside her 'cause she sed she 'd like t 5 see How much attention I had paid, an' if I 'd paid a bit, An' then she ast me out an' out "what was a hipper- crit?" I dun my best t' reckolect an' then I sed t' ma "I reckin that a hippercrit is jest like me an' pa." ...... . . . An' ma she cuffed my head An' pa gave me a wallopin' an' sent me off t' bed! 3 "JES' ONE STORY MORE." 11 TES' one story more," they 'd say,