'^ tK^ W ^"^ ,hdtnoiher^s Story of N K K PL. HI IL L XL Book («I)yrigiitN»_il£l4i COniRIGHT DEPOSIT. THE CRANE CLASSICS GEANDMOTHER'S STORY OF BUNKER HILL BATTLE WITH BIOGRAPHY AND NOTES BY MARGARET HILL McOARTER, Former Teacher of Engliah and American Literature, Topeka High School. CRANE & COMPANY, PUBLI8HERS TOPEKA, KANSAS 1904 LIBRA.HY of OONG.SESS Two Copies Keceived DEC 7 15^04 Cogyritrtii tntry CUSS O/ XXc No; COPY a. Copyright 1904, By Crane & Company, Topeka, Kansas ^• CONTENTS. PAGB. Guide to the Study of Oliver Wendell Homes. . . 5 ..Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill 9 •- Bill and Joe 22 c The Last Leap 25 ^^ The Deacon's Masterpiece 27 -' The Broomstick Train 82 — ^A Song 39 t Contentment 42 ^The Pilgrim's Vision 45 Lexington 51 ^Old Ironsides 54 yk^ Appeal for ' ' The Old South " 56 ^' K Ballad of the Boston Tea-Party 58 1^' Union and Liberty 62 V God Save the Flag '. 64 -- Freedom, Our Queen 65 v^ The Living Temple 66 • The Chambered Nautilus 68 A GUIDE TO THE STUDY OF OLIYEE WEI^DELL HOLMES. IMPORTANT FACTS OF THE LIFE OF HOLMES. Birth, Cambridge, Mass., August 29, 1809. Death, Boston, Mass., October 6, 1894. Literary ancestry: Father, Eev. Abiel Hohnes, who wrote the first American liistory, — American Annals. Education at Phillips (Andover) Academy and Har- vard College. Took his degree in 1829. Study of law for one year. Study of medicine, at home and abroad, taking degree, 1836. First volume of poems published 1836. Chair of anatomy and physiology in Dartmouth College 1838-1848; in Harvard, 1848-1882. Publication of the "Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," 1858. Birthday Breakfast, 1879. Celebration of seventy-fifth birthday, 1874. Second trip to Europe, after fifty years, 1886. D. C. L. of Oxford, England, and LL. D. of Edin- burgh, 1886. Retired life in Boston. W^EITINGS OIT HIS OWN BIOGEAPHY. The Opening of the Piano. Dorothy Q. Poems on the Class of '29. (5) b THE CRAXE CLASSICS The Iron Gate — (on his seventieth birthday.) The School-Boy. First Chapter of The Poet at The Breakfast Table. A Family Record. SOME MEMBERS OF THE CLASS OF '29. James Freeman Clarke. Rev. S. F. Smith. George T. Davis. AVilliam Henry Channing. Judge B. R. Curtis. George T. Bigelow. SOME AMERICAN HUMORISTS. O. W. Holmes. Mark Twain. James Russell Lowell. John G. Saxe. Charles Dudley Warner. Washington Irving. SOME OF THE FRIEXDS OF DR. HOLMES. Charles Sumner. ^STathaniel Hawthorne. H. W. Longfellow. E. P. AMiipple. James T. Fields. Henry Thoreau. THE SATURDAY CLUB, That first conceived the Atlantic Monlhli/. The name was given bv Dr. Holmes. Lowell Avas the first editor. Louis Agassiz. John L. Dwight. J. Eliot Cabot. R. \\. Emerson. STUDY GUIDE i C. C. Feltoii. H. W. Longfellow. O. W. Holmes. J. R. Lowell. E. R. Hoar. Edmund Quincy. Estes Howe. C. E. Morton. KEFERE^^CE BOOKS ON OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. American Literature (0. W. Holmes). E. P. Whip- ple, 1887. Poets of America. O. W. Holmes, E. C Stedman, 1886. Ha If -hours with the Best American Authors. C. Mor- ris, 1886. iS'orth American Review: January, 1847; January, 1849. LittelFs Living Age : January 6, 1849 ; March 17, 1849 ; October 8, 1853. ]^orth British Review^, August-ISTovember, 1860. Macmillan's Magazine, August, 1861. OUTLINE OF MORE IMPORTANT WORKS. PROSE. Essay — BreoildsiSt Table Series, 1858, 1859, 18f3. Eomance — Elsie Yenner, The Guardian Angel, A Modern Antipathy. Memoir — John Lothrop Motley, Ralph Waldo Emer- son. 7' ravels — One Hundred Days in Europe. POETRY. For Occasions — In Memory of Abraham Lincoln, Bry- ant's Seventieth Birthday, Bill and Joe, The Boys, Whit- tier's Seventieth Birthday, Welcome to Nations July 4, 1876. 8 THE CEA]S'E CLASSICS Tlie Beautiful — The Chambered Xautiliis. The Voice- less, The Living Temple, Homesick in Heaven. Humorous — The One-Hoss Shay, The Broomstick Train, The Last Leaf, The September Gale, The Height of The Ridiculous, A Farewell to xVgassiz, Contentment, My Aunt. Patriotic — Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill Battle, Boston Tea Party, Old Ironsides, Lexington. [From "A Fable for the Critics."] *' There is Holmes, who is matchless among you for \vit ; A Leyden-jar always full charged, from wliich flit The electrical tingles of hit after hit; His arc just the fine hands, too, for weaving a lyric Full of fancy, fun, feeling, or spiced with satyric In a measure so kindly, you doubt if the toes That are trodden upon are your own or your foes'." GRANDMOTHER'S STORY OF BUNKER HILL BATTLE. AS SHE SAW IT FROM THE BELFKY. [The following poem -was written in 1875, for the Centennial cele- bration of the battle of Bunker Hill. The belfry tower must have been that of the New Brick Church, built in 1721, and rebuilt of stone in 1845. It w^as pulled down in 1871, to widen Hanover street. This is one of the best of the poems of Dr. Holmes, who Avas es- pecially happ}'^ in poems for special occasions. The little break in the thread of it, at the last, and change from simple narrative to the bit of tender romance, is very skillful and pleasing.] 'T IS like stirring living embers wheiij at eighty, one re- members All the achings and the qnakings of '' the times that tried men's souls ; '' When I talk of Wldfj and Tory, when I tell the Rebel story, To yon the words are ashes, but to me they 're burning coals. I had heard the muskets' rattle of the April running bat- tle; ^ Lord Percy's hunted soldiers, I can see their red coats still ; But a deadly chill comes o'er me, as the day looms up be- fore me, When a thousand men lay bleeding on the slopes of Bun- ker's Hill. (9) 10 THE CEAXE CLASSICS 'T was a peaceful summer's niorning, wlien the first thing gave us warning Was the boomine: of the cannon from the river and the shore : '^ Chikl," says grandma, '' what 's the matter, what is all this noise and clatter ? Have those scalping Indian devils come to murder us once more ? " Poor old soul! my sides Avere shaking in the midst of all my quaking, To hear her talk of Indians when the guns began to roar : She had seen the burning village, and the slaughter and the pillage, ^^ When the Mohawks killed her father with their bullets through his door. Then I said, ^' Xow, dear old granny, don't you fret and worry any. Fur I '11 soon come back and tell you whether this is work or play ; There can't be mivSchief in it, so I won't be gone a For a minute then I started. I was gone the livelong day. ''' No time for bodice-lacing or for looking-glass grimacing; Down my hair went as 1 hurried, tund^ling half-way to my heels ; God forbid your ever knowing, when there 's blood around her flowing, How the lonely, helpless daughter of a (juiet household feels ! GEAXDMOTHEr's story OP" BUXKER HILL 1 1 In the street I heard a thiuuping; and I knew it was the stumping ^® Of the Corporal, our old neigldjor, on the wooden leg he wore, With a knot of women round him, — it was lucky I had found him, So 1 followed with the others, and the Corporal marched before. They were making for the steeple, — the old soldier and his people ; The pigeons circled round us as we climbed the creaking stair, •^" Just across the narrow river — oh, so close it made me shiver ! — Stood a fortress on the hill-top that but yesterday was bare. Xot slow our eyes to find it ; well we knew who stood be- hind it, Though the eartliwork hid them from us, and the stubborn walls were dumb : jlere were sister, wife, and mother, looking wild upon each other, ^^ And their lips were white with terror as they said, the HOUR HAS COME ! The morning slowly wasted, not a morsel had we tasted. And our heads were almost splitting w4th the cannons' deafening thrill. When a figure tall and stately round the rampart strode sedately ; It was Prescott, one since told me; he commanded on the hill. *^ 12 THE CKAXE CLASSICS Every woman's heart grew bigger when we saw his manly figure, With the banyan buckled round it, standing up so straight and tall ; Like a gentleman of leisure who is strolling out for pleas- ure, Through the storm of shells and cannon-shot he walked around the Avail. At eleven the sti*eets were swarming, for the red-coats' ranks were forming; ~ '*•' At noon in marchiug order they Avere moving to tlic piers ; How the bayonets gleamed and glistened, as we looked far doAvn, and listened To the trampling and the drum-beat of the belted grena- diers ! At length the men have started, Avitli a cheer (it seemed faint-hearted), In their scarlet regimentals, with their knapsacks on their backs, ^« And the reddening, rippling water, as after a sea-figlifs slaTightcr, Ivound the barges gliding onward blushed like blood along their tracks. So they crossed to the otlier border, and again they formed in order; And the boats came back for s(ddier^, came for soldiers, soldiers still: grandmother's story of bunker hill 13 The time seemed everlasting to us women faint and fast- ing, — ^^ At last they're moving, marching, marching providly np the hill. We can see the bright steel glancing all along the lines advancing — ^o\v the front rank fires a volley — they have thrown away their shot; For behind their earthwork lying, all the balls above them flying, Our people need not hurry; so they wait and answer not. ^<^ Then the Corporal, our old cripple (he would swear some- times, and tipple), — lie had heard the bullets whistle (in the old French war) before, — Calls out in words of jeering, just as if they all were hear- And his wooden leg thumps fiercely on the dusty belfry floor : — '' Oh ! fire away, ye villains, and earn King George's shillin's," '^ ^^ But ye '11 waste a ton of powder afore a ' rebel ' falls ; You may bang the dirt and welcome, they 're as safe as Dan'l Malcolm Ten foot beneath the gravestone that you 've splintered Avith your balls ! " ' In the hush of expectation, in the awe and trepidation Of the dread approaching moment, we are well-nigh breathless all ; '^ 14 THE CRANE CLASSICS Thongh the rotten bars are failing on the rickety belfry railing, We are croAvding up against them like the waves against a wall. Just a glimpc^e (the air is clearer), they are nearer, — nearer, — nearer, When a flash — a curling smoke-wreath — then a crash — the steeple shakes — The deadly truce is ended ; the tempest's shroud is rended ; Like a morning mist it gathered, like a thunder-cloud it breaks ! ^^ O the sight our eyes discover as the blue-black smoke blows over ! The red-coats stretched in Avindrows as a mower rakes his hay; Here a scarlet heap is lying, there a headlong crowd is flying Like a billow that has broken and is shivered into spray. ^^ Then we cried, ^^ The troops are routed ! they are beat — it can't be doubted ! God be thanked, the fight is over!" — Ah! the grim old soldier's smile ! ^' Tell us, tell us why you look so '( " (we could hardly speak we shook so), — ^' Are they beaten ? Are they beaten ? Are they beaten ?" — "Wait a while." O the trembling and the terror ! for too soon we saw our error : ^^ They are baflled, not defeated; we have driven them back in vain ; grandmother's story of bunker hill 15 And the columns that were scattered, round the colors that were tattered, Toward the sullen silent fortress turn their belted breasts again. All at once, as w^e were gazing, lo ! the roofs of Charles- town blazing ! They have fired the harmless village ; in an hour it will be down! ^' The Lord in Heaven confound them, rain his fire and brimstone round them, — The robbing, murdering red-coats, that would burn a peace- ful town! They are marching, stern and solemn; we can see each massive column As they near the naked earth-mound with the slanting walls so steep. Have our soldiers got faint-hearted, and in noiseless haste departed ? . ^^ Are they panic-struck and helpless? Are they palsied or asleep ? Xow ! the walls they 're almost under ! scarce a rod the foes asunder ! Xot a firelock flashed against them ! up the earthwork they will swarm ! But the words have scarce been spoken when the ominous calm is broken, x\nd a bellowing crash has emptied all the vengeance of the storm ! ^^^ So again, with murderous slaughter, pelted backwards to the water. 16 THE CRANE CLASSICS Fly Pigott's rnniiing heroes and the frightened braves of Howe ; And we shout, ''At last they 're done for, it 's their barges they have run for : Thev are beaten, beaten, beaten ; and the battle 's over now!" x\nd we looked, poor timid creatures, on the rough old soldier's features, ^^^ Our lips afraid to question, but he knew what we would ask: ''Xot sure," he said; ''keep quiet, — once more, I guess, they '11 try it — Here's damnation to the cut-throats!" then he handed me his flask. Saying, "Gal, you're looking shaky; have a drop of Old Jamaiky ; I 'm afeard there '11 be more trouble afore the job is done;" ''^ So I took one scorching swallow ; dreadful faint I felt and hollow. Standing there from early morning when the firing was begun. All through those hours of trial T had watched a calm clock dial, As the hands^ kept creeping, creeping, — they were creep- ing round to four, When the old man said, " They 're forming with their bagonets fixed for storming: ^^^ It 's the death-grip that 's a-coming, — they will try the works once more." gran-dmother's story of bunker hill 17 With brazen trumpets blaring, the flames behind them glaring, The deadly wall before them, in close array they come; Still onward, upward toiling, like a dragon's fold uncoil- ing, — Like the rattlesnake's shrill warning the reverberating drum ! Over heaps all torn and gory — shall I tell the fearful story. How they surged above the breastwork, as a sea breaks over a deck ; How, driven, yet scarce defeated, our worn-out men re- treated, With their powder-horns all emptied, like the swimmers from a wreck ? It has all been told and painted; as for me, they say I fainted. And the wooden-legged old Corporal stumped with me down the stair : When I woke from dreams affrighted the evening lamps wer3 lighted, — On the floor a youth was lying ; his bleeding breast was bare. And I heard through all the flurry, '' Send for Warren ! hurry! hurry! Tell him here's a soldier bleeding, and he'll come and dress his wound ! " Ah, v/e knew not till the morrow told its tale of death and sorrow, 18 " THE CRANE CLASSICS How the starlight found him stiffened on the dark and bloody ground. Who the youth was, what his name was, where the place from which he came was, AMio had brought him from the battle, and had left him at our door, He could not speak to tell us ; but H was one of our brave fellows, ^^^ As the homespun plainly showed us which the dying sol- dier wore. For they all thought he was dying, as they gathered round him crying, — And they said, " Oh, how they '11 miss him ! " and, '^ What luill his mother do ? " Then, his eyelids just unclosing like a child's that has ])eeu dozing. Ho faintly murmured, ^^^fother!'' and — T saw^ his eyes were blue. ^*^ — "Why, graudmn, how you're winking!" — Ah, my child, it sets me thinking Of a story not like this one. Well, he somehow lived along ; So we came to know each other, and I nursed him like a — mother, Till at last he stood before me, tall, and rosy-cheeked, and strong. And we sometimes walked together in the pleasant sum- mer weather ; ■^*' grandmother's story of bunker hill 19 — '^Please to tell iis what his -.name was?" — Just your own, mv little dear ; There's his i:>icture Copley painted: we became so well acquainted, That, — in short, that 's why I 'm grandma, and you chil- dren are all here ! NOTES. Line 2. The quotation is from the first number of The Crisis, a tract issued regularly for some months during the Revolutionary War. The author was Thomas Paine. The Avhole of the quotation reads: "These are the times that try men's souls: the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he that stands now deserves the thanks of man and woman." . 3. In 1679, during the last of the reign of Charles II., the terms Whig and Tory came into use. The Whigs stood for political and religious freedom; the Tories, on the other hand, represented the crown and the churchly ])ower. When the colonies of America re- volted, the \Mugs sympathized Avith them, the Tories opposed them. The terms were at once adopted in America. The Whigs wanted freedom. The Tories adhered to the king. The term rebel was ap- plied to the Whigs by the Tories. Later on, the terms Liberal and Conservative supplanted these. 5. The April running battle was the battle of Lexington and Concord. The British beat a disorderly retreat to Charlestown, un- der the leadership of Lord Percy. IG. The Mowhawk Indians were the most dreaded of all the Six Nations northwest of New England. During Queen Anne's War they with the Frencli fell upon the frontier New England settle- ments, and the atrocity of their raids is still tradition in New England households. 40. Colonel William Preseott, who commanded a portion of the fortification, was the grandfatlier of Preseott the historian. He had been sent to fortify Breed's Hill, on June 17, 1776. 42. Banyan — a flowered gown worn by General Preseott in the hot weather. It is no wonder that with such unmilitary dress the 20 THE CRAXE CLASSICS British soldiers should have held the Americans in slight esteem. It is true that he did carelessly stroll around the walls for the pur- pose of encouraging his men, 62. The old French War was the French and Indian War of 1755-1763, whereby the French lost possession of Canada. Many Revolutionary soldiers were veterans of this war. 67. The author says of this line: "The following epitaph is still to be read on a tall gravestone standing as yet undisturbed among the transplanted monuments of the dead in Copp's Hill burial- ground, one of the three city (Boston) cemeteries which have been desecrated and ruined within my own remembrance : " Here lies buried in a Stone Grave 10 feet deep Capt. Daniel Malcolm ISIercht Who departed this Life October 23, 1769, Aged 44 years, A true son of Liberty, A Friend to the Publick, An Enemy to oppression, And one of the foremost In opposing the Revenue Acts On America." 89. The burning of Charlestown was a characteristic act of cruelty on the part of the British ; but in the fortunes of war such things are a part. 98. Firelock. The old-fashioned gun of the 18th century soldier. 102. Howe, Pigott and Clinton were the generals commanding the English in this engagement. 109. Old Jamaiky was Jamaica rum, a brand of unusual vigor, and much used at this time. 110. Bagonets = bayonets. 119. Compare this with Hugo's description of the Battle of Waterloo, in Les Miserahles: " Ney drew his sabre and placed himself at their head, and the mighty squadrons started. Then a formidable spectacle was seen: the whole of this cavalry with raised sabres, with standards flying, and formed in columns of division, descended, with one movement and as one man. with the precision of a bronze battering-ram opening a breach, the hill of Belle Alliance. . . . They ascended it, stern, threatening, and imperturbable; between the breaks in the artillery gi^andmother's stoky of Buxia>:R jitll 21 and musketry fire, the colossal tramp could be heard. As they formed two divisions, they were in two columns. . . . At a dis- tance it appeared as if two immense steel lizards were crawling- to- Avard the crest of tlie plateau; they traversed the battlc-lield like a flash.'' 129. Dr. Joseph Warien. a ])hysician and a patriot who fell in this battle, was one of the men whose death was most widely mourned and v\-hose loss was most deeply felt by the Americans. 147. John Singleton Copley was born in America, in 1737, and died in England, in 1815. He was a famous painter of portraits, and painted the likenesses of many noted people about Boston. 22 TiiE cka:xe classics BILL ANT) JOE. CoME^ dear old comrade, you and I Will steal an hour from days gone by, The shining days when life was new. And all was bright with morning dew, The lusty days of long ago, ^ When you were Bill and I was Joe. Your name may flaunt a titled trail Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail. And mine as brief appendix wear As Tam O'Shanter's luckless mare; ^^ To-day, old friend, remember still That I am Joe and you are Bill. You 've won the great Avorld's envied ])rize, And grand you look in people's eyes. With H O ]S^. and L L. D. ^^ In big brave letters, fair to see, — • Your fist, old fellow ! off they go ! — How are you. Bill ? LIow are you Joe ? You 've worn the judge's ermined rol)e ; You 've taught your name to half the globe ; "*^ You 've sung mankind a deathless strain ; You 've made the dead past live again ; The world may call you what it will, JJut vou and I are Joe and Bill. BILL AND JOE 23 The chaffing young folks stare and say, ^^ " See those old buffers, bent and gray, — They talk like fellows in their teens ! Mad, poor old boys ! That 's what it means," — And shake their heads; they little know The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe ! — '"^^ How Bill forgets his hour of pride. While Joe sits smiling at his side; How Joe, in spite of time's disguise. Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes, — Those calm, stern eyes that melt and fill ^^ As Joe looks fondly up at Bill. Ah, pensive scholar, what is fame ? A fitful tongue of leaping flame ; A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust, That lifts a pinch of mortal dust ; A few swift years, and who can show Which dust ^^'as Bill and ^vhich was Joe ? The weary idol takes his stand. Holds out his bruised and aching hand. While gaping thousands come and go, — How vain it seems, this empty show! Till all at once his pulses thrill ; — 'Tis poor old Joe's " God bless you. Bill ! " And shall we breathe in happier spheres The names that pleased our mortal ears; In some sweet lull of harp and song For earth-born spirits none too long. 40 45 24 , THE cka:ve classics Tust whispering of the world below Where this was Bill, and that was Joe ? Iso matter; while our home is here ^^ aSo sounding name is half so dear; When fades at length our lingering day, VCho cares what pompous tombstones say ? Read on the hearts that love us still, lite jacet Joe. Hie jdcet BilL 60 THE LAST LEAF THE LAST LEAF. I SAW liiin once before, As lie passed bj the dour, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruuing-knife of Time Cut him down, ^ot a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through tlie town. But now he walks the streets, xind he looks at all he meets Sad and wan. And he shakes his feeble head, . That it seems as if he said, '' They are gone.'' The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago — 25 15 20 25 26 THE CRANE CLASSICS That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. ^^ But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back. And a melancholy crack ^^ In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But tlie old three-cornered hat *^ And the breeclies, and all that Are so queer ! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, *5 Let them smile, as I do noAv At the old forsaken bough Where I cling. THE DEACON S MASTERPIECE THE DEACOl^'S MASTEEPIECE; OE^ THE WONDERFUL " ONE-HOSS SHAY." A LOGICAL STORY. Have jou heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it — ah, but stay, I '11 tell you what happened without delay, Scaring the parson into fits. Frightening people out of their wits, — Have you ever heard of that, I say ? Seventeen hundred and fifty-five. Georgius Sccundus was then alive, — Snufi'y old drone from the German hive. That was the year when Lisbon town Saw the earth open and gulp her down. And Braddock's army was done so brown, Left without a scalp to its crown. It was on the terrible Earthquake-day That the Deacon finished "the one-hoss shay. N^ow in building of chaises, I toll you what, There is always somcwliere a Aveakest spot, — In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill. In screv/, l)olt, thorouc'hbrace. — lurking still, Find it somewhere you must and will, — Above or below, or within or without, — 27 15 28 THE CKANE CL^VSSICS And that 's the reason, beyond a doubt, ^^ That a chaise breaJiS doivn, but doesn't wea)' oat. Hut the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, AVith iui '^ I dew vum/' or an '^ I tell ycou") He Avould build one sha}' to beat the taown 'n' the keountv 'n' all the kentrv raoun' ; ^'^ It should be so built that it couldn't break daown ; '^ Fur," said the Deacon, ^' 't 's mighty plain Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain; 'n' the ^Y2iJ t' fix it, uz I maintain, Is only jest ' "'■' T' make that place uz strong uz the rest." So tlie Deacon inquired of the viUage folk Where he could find the strongest oak. That could n't be split nor bent nor broke, — That was for spokes and floor and sills ; ^^ He sent for lancewood to make the thills ; The crossbars were ash, from 'the straightest trees, The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese. But lasts like iron for things like these; The hubs of logs from the " Settler's ellum," — ^^ Last of its timber, — they could n't sell 'em, I^ever an axe had seen their chips. And the wedges flew from between their lips. Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-tips ; Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, ^^ Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too. Steel of the finest, bright and blue ; Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide; Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide 29 Found in the pit when the tanner died. ^^ That was the Avay he " put her through." " There ! " said the Deacon, '' naow she '11 dew ! " Do ! I tell you, T rather guess She was a wonder, and nothing less ! Colts grew horses, beards turned gray, ^^ Deacon and deaconess dropped away. Children and grandchildren — where were they ? But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-day ! Eighteen hundred; it came and found ^^ The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound. Eighteen hundred increased by ten ; — " Hahnsum kerridge " they called it then. Eighteen hundred and twenty came ; — Running as usual; much the same. "^^ Thirty and forty at last arrive, And then come fifty, and fifty-five. Little of all we value here Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year Without both feeling and looking queer. In fact, there 's nothing that keeps its youth, - So far as I know, but a tree and truth. (This is a moral that runs at large; Take it. — You're welcome. — 'No extra charge.) 75 First of ]N"ovember, — the Earthquake-day, — ®^ There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay, A general flavor of mild decay, But nothing local, as one may say. 30 THE CRANE CLASSICS There could n't be, — for the Deacon's art Had made it so like in every part *^ That there wasn't a chance for one to start. For the wheels were just as strong as the thills, And the floor was just as strong as the sills, And the panels just as strong as the floor, And the whipple-tree neither less nor more, ^^ And the back-crossbar as strong as the fore, And spring and axle and hub encore. And yet, as a ivliole, it is past a doubt In another hour it will be ivorn out! First of November, 'Fif ty-flve ! ^^ This morning the parson takes a drive. N'ow, small boys, get out of the way ! Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay, Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay. " Huddup ! " said the parson. — Off Avent they. i'^^ The parson was working his Sunday's text, — Had got to fifthhi, and stopped perplexed At what the — Hoses — was coming next. All at once the horse stood still. Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill. ^^^ First a shiver, and then a thrill. Then something decidedly like a spill, — And the parson was sitting upon a rock, At half-past nine by the meet'ri'-house clock, — Just the hour of the Earthquake shock ! ^^^ W[\^i do you think the parson found, When he got up and stared around? The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, As if it had been to the mill and ground ! THE deacon's :mastekpiece 31 You see, of course, if you 're not a dunce, How it went to pieces all at once — All at once, and nothing first, — Just as bubbles do when they burst. End of the wonderful one-hoss shay. Logic is logic. That's all I say. 115 120 32 THE CEAXE CLASSICS THE BEOOMSTICK TEAm; OE, THE EETUEN OF THE WITCHES. " Look here ! There are crowds of people whirled through our streets on these new-fashioned cars, with their witch-broom-sticks overhead, — if they don't come from Salem, they ought to, — and not more than one in a dozen of these fish-eyed bipeds thinks or cares a nickel's worth about the miracle which is wrought for their convenience. They know that without hands or feet, without horses, without steam, so far as they can see, they are transported from place to place, and that there is nothing to account for it except the witch-broomstick and the iron or copper cobweb which they see stretched above them. What do they know or care about this last revelation of the omnipresent spirit of the material universe? We ought to go down on our knees when one of these mighty caravans, car after car, spins by us, under the mystic impulse which seems to know not whether its train is loaded or empty. We are used to force in the muscle of horses in the expansive potency of steam, but here we have force stripped stark naked, — nothing but a filament to cover its nudity, — and yet showing its might in efforts that would task the working-beam of a ponderous steam-engine." — Over the Teacups, page 215. Look out ! Look out, boys ! Clear the track ! The witches are here ! They 've all come back ! They hanged them high, — 'No use ! No use ! AVhat cares a witch for a hangman's noose ? They buried them deep, but they would n't lie still, ^ For cats and witches, are hard to kill ; They swore they shouldn't and w^ouldn't die, — Books said they did, but they lie ! they lie ! A cou])l(' of hundred years, or so. They had knocked about in the world below, ^^ When an Essex Deacon dropy)ed in to call, And a homesick feeling seized them all; THE BROOMSTICK TRAIN 33 For he came from a place they knew full well, And many a tale he had to tell. They longed to visit the haunts of men, To see the old dwellings they knew again, And ride on their broomsticks all around Their wide domain of unhallowed ground. 15 In Essex County there 's many a roof Well known to him of the cloven hoof ; ^^ The small square windows are full in view Which the midnight hags went sailing through, On their well-trained broomsticks mounted high, Seen like shadows against the sky; Crossing the track of owls and bats, ^^ Hugging before them their coal-black cats. • Well did they know, those gray old wives, The sights we see in our daily drives : Shimmer of lake and shine of sea. Brown's bare hill with its lonely tree, ^^ (Tt wasn't then as we see it now, With one scant scalp-lock to shade its brow;) Dusky nooks in the Essex woods, Dark, dim, Dante-like solitudes. Where the tree-toad watches the sin\ious snake ^^ Glide through his forests of fern and brake; Ipswich River ; its old stone bridge ; Far-off Andover's Indian Ridge, '"' And many a scene where history tells Some shadow of bygone terror dwells, — ^'^ Of " Xorman's Woe " with its tale of dread, Of the Screeching Woman of Marblehead, —3 34 THE CRANE CLASSICS ( The fearful story that turns men pale : Don't bid me tell it, — my speech would fail.) Who would not, will not, if he can, '^^ Bathe in the breezes of fair Cape Ann, — Rest in the bowers her bays enfold. Loved by the sachems and squaws of old ( Home where the white magnolias bloom. Sweet with the bayberry's chaste perfume, ^^ Hugged by the woods and kissed by the sea ! Where is the Eden like to thee ? !For that " couple of hundred years, or so," There had been no peace in the world below ; The witches still grumbling, ^' It isn't fair; ^^ Come, give us a taste of the upper air ! • We 've had enough of your sulphur springs. And the evil odor that round them cling-s ; We long for a drink that is cool and nice, — Great buckets of water with Wenhani ice; ®^ We 've served you well up-stairs, you know ; You 're a good old — fellow — come, let us go ! " I don't feel sure of his being good. But he happened to be in a pleasant mood, — As fiends with their skins full sometimes are, — ^^ (He'd been drinking with '^roughs" at a Boston bar.) So what does he do but up and shout To a graybeard turnkey, " Let 'em out ! " To mind his orders was all he knew ; The gates swung open, and out they flew. '^^ TIIIO BROOMSTICK TRAIX 35 '' AVliere are our broomsticks ? " the ])eldams cried. ''Here are your broomsticks/' an imp replied. '' They 've been in — the pLice you know — so long- They smell of brimstone uncommon strong; But they 've gained by being left alone, — "■'* Just look, and you '11 see how tall they 've grown." "And where is my cat ? " a vixen squalled. '* Yes, where are our cats ? " the witches bawled, And began to call them all by name ; As fast as they called the cats, they came: ^^ There was bob-tailed Tommy and long-tailed Tim, And wall-eyed Jacky and green-eyed Jim, And splay-foot Benny and slim-legged Beau, And Skinny and Squally, and Jerry and Joe, And many another that came at call, — ^^' It would take too long to count them all. All black, — one could hardly tell which was which, But every cat knew his own old witch ; And she knew hers as hers knew her, — Ah, did n't they curl their tails and purr ! '^'^ Xo sooner the withered hags were free Than out they swarmed for a midnight spree ; I couldn't tell all they did in rhymes, But the Essex people had dreadful times. The Swampscott fishermen still relate ^^ How a strange sea-monster stole their bait ; How their nets were tangled in loops and knotr^. And they found dead crabs in their lobster-pots. Poor Danvers grieved for her blasted crops. And Wilmington mourned over mildewed hops. i'*^' 86 THE CRANE CLASSICS A blight played havoc with Beverly beans, — It was all the^work of those hateful queens ! A dreadful panic began at " Pride's/' Where tlie witches stopped in their midnight ride-^, And there rose strange rumors and vague alarms ^'^"' '^lid the peaceful dwellers at Beverly Farms. Xow when the Boss of the Beldams found That without his leave they were ramping round, He called, — they could hear him twenty miles, From Chelsea beach to the Misery Isles; ^^^ The deafest old granny knew his tone Without the trick of the telephone. '^ Come here, you witches ! Come here ! " say^ ho, — "At your games of old, without asking me ! I'll give you a little job to do ^^^ That will keep you stirring, you godless crew ! '' They came, of course, at their master's call. The witches, the broomsticks, the cats, and all ; . He led the hags to a railway train The horses were trying to drag in vain. ^^" " ]^ow, then," says he, '^ you 've had your fun. And here are the cars you've got to run. The driver may just unhitch his team. We don't want horses, we don't want steam ; You may keep your old black cats to hug, ^^^ But the loaded train you've got to lug." Since then on many a car you'll see A ])room stick plain ns plain can be; 37 135 140 TliP] BROOMSTICK TRAIN On every stick there 's a witch astride, — The string you see to her leg is tied. Slie will do a mischief if she can, But the string is held by a careful man, And whenever the evil-minded witch Would cut some caper, he gives a twitch. As for the hag, you can't see her. But hark ! you can hear her black cat's purr. And now and then, as a car goes by. You ma V catch a ffleam from her wicked eve. Often you 've looked on a rushing train, Rut just Avhat moved it was not so plain. It couldn't be those wires above. For they neither could pull ncr shove ; AVliere was the motor that made it go You couldn't guess, hut now you know. Remember my rhymes when you ride again On the rattling rail by the broomstick train ! Line 34. Dante-like. Dante, author of The Inferno, A\;as an Italian poet of the latter half of the 13th century. His work is noted for its gloomy and awful pictures of the future life. 41. See Longfellow's Wreck of The Hesperus: " Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow; Christ save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's woe." 42. See Whittier's Skipper Ircson's Ride: " Scores of women old and j'oung, Strong of muscle and glib of tongue, Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane, , 145 38 THE CEANE CLASSICS Shouting and swinging the shrill refrain, * Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips, Girls in bloom of cheek and lips. With concii-shclls blowing and fish-horn's twang, Over and over the Moenads san.a,'' A SONG 39 A SOXG. FOR THE CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION OF HARVARD COL- LEGE^ 1836. [Plarvard College was established in 1636, by the General Court (Legislature), of Massachusetts,- £400 being voted for this pur- pose. The village where it was located was first called Newtown. In 1638 its name was changed to Cambridge, and the next year the name of the school was made Harvard College, after the Rev. John Harvard. He was a Charlestown minister, wTio died in 1638, leav- ing his library of three hundred or more volumes and £780 to the institution. The work began in the college in 1638, under Nathaniel Eaton. There were nine young men in the first class, who graduated in 1642. Rev. Henry Dunster was the first president.] When the Puritans came over, Our hills and swamps to clear, The woods were full of catamounts, And Indians red as deer. With tomahawks and scalping-knives, ^ That make folks' heads look queer ; — Oh, the ship from England used to bring A hundred wigs a year ! The crows came cawing through the air To pluck the Pilgrims' corn, ^^ The bears came snuffing round the door ' ^Vhene'er a babe was born, The rattlesnakes were bigger round Than the butt of the old ram's horn The deacon blew at meeting-time ^^ On every " Sabbath " morn. so 40 Tin: CEANE CLASSICS But soon tliey knocked the wigwams down, And pine-tree trunk and limb JJegan to sprout among the lea\'es In shape of steeples slim ; And out the little wharves were stretched Along the ocean's rim, And up tlie little school-house shot To keep the boys in trim. And Avhen at length the College rose, The sachem cocked his eye At every tutor's meagre ribs Whose coat-tails whistled by : But when the Greek and Hebrew words Came tumbling from his jaws, The copper-colored children all Ran screaming to the squaws. And who was on the Catalogue When college was begun ? Two nephews of the President, ^^ And the Professor's son; (They turned a little Indian by, As brown as any bun;) Lord ! how the seniors knocked about The freshman class of one ! ' *^ They had not then the dainty things That commons now afford, But succotash and hominy Were smoking on the board; A SONG 41 Tliey did not rattle round in gigS, "^^ Or dash in long-tailed blues, But always on Commencement days The tutors blacked their shoes. God bless the ancient Puritans ! Their lot was hard enough ; ^^ But honest hearts make iron arms, And tender maids are tough ; So love and faith have formed and fed Our true-born Yankee st.uff, And keep the kernel in the shell ^^ The British found so rough! 42 THE CRANE CLASSICS conte:n^tme:n"t. " Man wants but little here below." Little I ask; mj wants are feAv; I only wish a hut of stone, (A very 'plain bro^^ni stone will do,) That I may call my own ; — And close at hand is such a one, ^ In yonder street that fronts "the sun. Plain food is quite enough for me ; Three courses are as good as ten ; — If N^ature can subsist on three. Thank Heaven for three. Amen ! ^^ I always thought cold victual nice ; — My choice would be vanilla-ice, I care not much for gold or land ; — Give me a mortgage here and there, — Some good bank-stock, some note of hand, ^^ Or trifling railroad share, — I only ask that Fortune send A little more than I shall spend. Honors are silly toys, I know. And titles are but empty names; 20 I would, perhaps, be Plenipo, — But only near St. James.; I 'm very sure I should not care To fill our Gubernator^s chair. Jewels are baubles ; 't is a sin 25 To care for such unfruitful things; COXTEXTMENT 43 One good-sized diamond in a pin, — Some, not so large, in rings, — A ruby, and a pearl, or so. Will do for me ; — I laugh at show. ^^ My dame should dress in cheap attire ; (Good, heavy silks are never dear;) I own perhaps I might desire Some shawls of true Cashmere, — Some marrowy crapes of China silk, ^^ Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk. I would not have the horse I drive So fast that folks must stop and stare ; An easy gain — two, forty-five — Suits me ; I do not care ; — ^^ Perhaps, for just a smgle spurt. Some seconds less would do no hurt. Of pictures, I should like to own Titians and Raphaels three or four, — I love so much their style and tone, — ^^ One Turner, and no more, (>A landscape, — foreground golden dirt, — The sunshine painted with a squirt.) Of books but few, — some fifty score For daily use, and bound for wear; ^^ The rest upon an upper floor ; — Some little luxury there Of red morocco's gilded gleam And vellum rich as country cream. 44: THE CIlA^sE CLASSICS Busts, caincos, gems, — sueli tliiiii>s as tliese, ^^ AVliieh otliers often show for pride, I value for their poAver to please, And selfish churls deride; Oiie Stradi\'ai"ius, I confess, Tico meerschaums, I would fain possess. ^^ AVealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn, Xor ape the glittering upstart fool ; — Shall not carved tahles serve nij turn. But all must be of buhl? Give grasping pomp its double share, — • I ask but one recumbent chair. 65 Thus humble let me live and die, I^or long for Midas' golden touch ; If Heaven more generous gifts deny, I shall not miss them much, — Too grateful for the blessing lent Of simple tastes and mind content ! NOTES. LiXE 21, Plenipotentiary. Ministers to foreign countries from the United States, not doing the work of the regular ambassador or minister. 22, St. James. From the rule of William III. to the time of Victoria, St. James palace was the residence of the British sovereign. Since Victoria's time, Buckingham palace has been the home of the royal family. 44. Titian and Raphael. Famous Italian artists, noted for painting pictures of religious topics. Raphael's Madonnas are masterpieces of coloring. 59. Stradivarius — Maker of the famous Cremona Aiolin ; lived in Italy (1649-1737). His instruments now bring enormous sums of money. One is said to have been sold for ^2,000. THE PILGRIM R VISIOrvT. THE PILGEBI'S VISIOX [In this poem, as well as in others by tlie same writer, distinc- tion is made between the PiUjrim and the Purit