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1 2 3

4 5 6

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Vi:

I Village verse stories

AND

OTHER POEMS

CRAIVF. C. SLACK

]

INDEX TO CONTENTS-

Introduction 1

The Villagre 2

Them Ere Wimmen Wants Ter Vote fi

Only Ordinary Polks d

The Horse Trade 11

The Crlticisin' Deacon 16

The Life Insurance Man 19

The Old Cow Bell 22

The Pious Afrigander 2«

The Old Time Meetin' 28

The Building Committee 31

When It Takes A Fightin' Feller 34

Some Folks They're Alus Complainin' 37

The Divorce 39

The Ragmuffln's Prayer 44

The Puzzled Squire 48

When Lucinda Led The Singin' 50

The Piano Agent 52

Black Sheep Jim 5(i

The Trip Of The Sunset Limited 60

Graham Green's Experience 66

Simon's Decision 68

The Canuck 71

The Bulls And The Bears 74

Home 77

The Days Of " Auld Lung Svne " 7s»

The Old Time Huskin Bee 80

The Old Tavern Stove 82

Peggy & Co 85

To Arms ! To Arms ! ^ . 87

A Cart Horse's Soliloquv.

Figure For Yourself. ^^

Keep A Pegging, J'ound Avvav' ' ] .' ." !;^,^

To A Caged Canary .... ' •' ^

Tlje District Fair . ••<•

Twilight On The L^ke -'^

A Charleston Lake Lvric ''^

Never Mind " 100

To Our Fallen Heroes ^^^2

A Tribute To The Habiiant;.::; •••• }?i

Bat ea.e Type Written Letter J^!

Los On De Bush ^09

Old Wes'por'....".'. 1^0

Ole White Fish Joe * ^2

My Grand Chile Leetle Joe* *''*

The Habitant's Storv ' ^^^

Old Wes'por'. " • H8

Ole Whife-Fish Joe ! ! ! 112

Mj Gran' Chile Leetle Joe **•*

The Habitart's Storv ' ^^

Ole Broc'ville Town 118 .

Off on de Big Hunt 121

124

Introduction.

To the Public In General :

To begfin with this is not a great work, not treasured as such uy the author, and
doubtless will it be so tr ,'.;'< < by those into whose hands H may fall. It is but a com-
mon work intended for a common folk. Mighty men have written for niigluy miftds,
this is but ordint . , by an ordinary, A>r the ordinary.

Among the unpresuming I have found my characters which I have (Studied and
learned to admire. They are all original and within easy hailing distance at this
writing. Among them I have ever lived ; shared in their honest kindness, mingled
in their sports and pastimes, their sorrowings and their vicissitudes, their ups and
downs, so to speak, and to them this book is most faithfully ascribed.

In regard to the language, it is the language of the common people, accented as
it is by them and within a compass of say one thousand five-hundred words of easy
everyday English. I have not studied the lexicons to find "Jaw-breakers" to tell my
simple stories and cover up their many faults. Such words would be out of p!?ce, not
in keeping with the characters not characteristic of myself.

I have endeavored to tell the stories in a free, off-hand, how I have succeeded I
must leave to my readers to judge. The incidents and happenings have
all transpired, but, of course, they have been exaggerated and treated perhaps too
extravagantly to please some of the finer sentiments and those loving the truth and
nothing but the truth. "Village Verses" are not without their faults, and I am not so
literary blind that I cannot see some of them. Two I will mention, they are irregular
and rambling in verse, why I leave them thus I will explain. The characters which
have told the stories as they lounged about the corner grocery store at early evening,
scarce if ever narrowed down to the text of their quaint stories, but would ramble and
generalize. In their rambling I have followed and present them to you as narrated in
a marked degree.

In conclusion I beg to say a few words to critics. I do .lot court favor in
your criticisms, all I ask is fair dealing. In summing up should there be anything
worthy of commendation please pla-^e it to my credit, i •:.m but a working mechanic
and when I consider the circumstanc«a under which the work was produced I cannot
help but look upon it with some degree of pride, but believe me, without the least
thought of conceit whatever.

The thoughts contained therein have been linked together in a carriage paint
shop and jotted down after hours, in fact, the work has been my recreation.

The illustrations are of my own creation and from original drawings and is my
very first attempt at book Mlustrating. Hoping my feeble efforts will find some favor
with my readers.

I am your well wisher,

Crawf. C. Slack,

Athens, Ont.

The Village.

You kin boast of city livin' with its splender an its show,
Druther live out in the village where the folks are ruther slow —
'Mong the clover-scented medders; where the twilight lipgers long^
And from out the maple wood-land comes a stiain of feathered song —
Where the brook a-down the hill-side murmurs on with sweet refrain
That is borne upon the breezes far away, then back again —
Where the children merry-makin', on the village green at play,
Seems ter gladden the snrroundin'^ an' ter charm the partin' day —
Where the golden summer sun-set gilds the villhge church's dome,
There among the creepin' shadows^ I would druther have my home.

See the lazy lowin' cattle zig-zag down the pasture road,
Hear the harvest wagon creakin', lumberin' homeward with it's load,
See, reflected in the water, slopin' hill with shrub and tree,
And ter watch the sombre shadows stealin' o'er the hazy lea ;
Huw the lads with forks a-shouldor comin' homo as day grows dim,
Hear my good old wife a-singln' some old-time familiar hymn.
Talk about yer city musie and your squeaked voiced city choir,
When it comes right down ter smgin' they aint in it to inspire
She aint no high-paid soprano, filled wfth pride and college art,
Her 'ft is melody from the soul, music from an honest heart.

If tfi
If ve
An'
Go n|

Wimen siitin' 'ronnd a-talkinp: in their home-made flannel frocks ;
Some a-mendin' children's clothin', some a knittin' winter socks ;
Talkin' 'bout the thinjfs that's happened, jokin' 'bout the men, perhaps,
Botherin' of some blushin' maiden 'bout some of 'em farmer chaps ;
An' the village gossips joins 'em— every place has one of them,
Born to carry news and tattle, don't know as we should condemn ;
Lads a-imitatin' circus that hss lately been ter town.
Some a-cnttin' up an' HCtin' ; some a playin' of the clown.
Some a-sellin' of the tickets over on the old milk-stand,
Some a-playin' on the whistles, lettin' on they are the band.

When the shades of evenin' deepen an' the hard day's- work is o'dr,
Farmin' lads commence ter gather at the corner grocery store,
Sittin' round on dry -goods boxes, swappin' yarns an' tellin' jokes,
Talkin' 'bout their crops and cattle, visitin' with the village folks ;
May be swappin' off their horses, tradin' jack-knives just for fun,
Hard ter beat them farmin' fellers, fer they're judges everyone.
Maybe tradin' off their watches, think they're up ter every trick ;
An' kin tell a ratlin' timer just by listenin' to her tick :
Askin' one another questions as ter how the timers suit,
Maybe holdin' of a parley over the amount of boot.

There, acomln' is the mail man on his tired and sweatin' nag.

With a mint of information in a little leather bag.

It contains the weekly papers, giving all the latest news.

(^uotin' all the market prices, glvln' the produce dealer's views.

Mother gets a welcome lettur that she's looked for day by day

From her only boy thot's wandered from the village far away.

Tells her all about his doin'« an' his goln's to an' fro,

Tells her all his little troubles, niakei her old lu-art overflow,

With it sends a little token fer ter cheer her anxious fears,

Maybe blots the precious letter with a flow of homeaick tears.

Bliisliln maidens chide the postman, pure of heart and sweet of voice,
If ter them he bears no tidln's from the sweethearts of tUAv choice.
If yer look In' fer a model of fair Virtue on her throne,
An' you want tor paint her picture or ter carve her out of stone,
Go and seek the rural maiden cro you fail or farther trace,

An' you'll And 9, m0r.1l picture out-lind on her rustic face.
Curse the villain, doubly curse him, who with studied sly deceit
Wrecks the pinnacle of virtue, leaves the ruin quite complete ;
May the hellish phantoms haunt him fer his callous, cruel crime,
Brand him traitor, sneakiu' coward, let it follow him through time.

The schoolmaster gets his paper, then the men folks flock aroun',
He's the reader of the village, and could shine in any town.
Talk about your elocutin', he's the best you ever heard.
Never missin' of a sentence, never stops to spell a w-rd ;
Reads the editorial column, comments on it as he reads,
Maybe reads some advertisements settin' forth the people's needs,
Maybe gets ter argufyin' with the grocery -mar. or 'sc^uire
He's enouflfh for both em fellers, though they are a knowin' pair,
Fer he has the education, knows a sight and knows it well.
An' he's a persuadin' feller— tliet the youngsters all kin tell.

Now the 'squire an' school-master, better friends you never see,

But in politics an' such like, why fhey never kin agree.

They'll get cross-ways with each other, call sach names thet are a fright.

An' if you didn't know them why you'd think they'd sure'y light.

'B'tut the only one can stop em is the preacher of the place.

An' he softens up their feelin's with his reverence and his grace.

He has been sent here among us as a guide from year ter year,

Ho'« a kind of guardian angel and ter all the people dear,

An' he is the lead in' spirit in the little old stone church.

An' fer love and christian piety you need no further search.

Preachln* twice on every Sunday, sowin' kindness through the week,
Vlsltln' the high and lowly, biddin' all the heaven seek ;
Prenchin' all the funeral sermons, tries to touch our hearts of stone,
8ympathizin' with the mourners just as if he was their own ;
Marries all the village maidens, then, hix countenance a beam,
Hither where the good man passes things somehow the brighter seem ;
Tondin' all the village meetin's, opens, closes all with prayer.
An' his presence Alls the places with a kind of pious air—
Couldn't help but like hlni, somehow, couldn't help it if I tried,
Preached a sermon Sunday evenm', must admit I nearly cried.

In u modest little dwellin', hid away among the trees,
There the friend an' benefactor, the aged doctor lives at ease.
Restin' now upon his laurels, well desorvin' public praise,
He, a peer among the learned and a sage in by-gone days.
Never hoarded up much money, never worked because of gain,
Made his theme the thirst of knowledge and his garner was the brain ;
Doctored rich and poor as equal, drivin' through the sleet and snow.
Made no matter as ter distance, for the poor he'd farther go.
Now, he' reitin' from his labjr*, poor in purse but rich in fame.
For the years of stress and trial, this the recompense — a name.

Yonder on the loamy hill-side, 'mong the fields of wavin' corn.

Where the creepin' mornin' glory nods ter meet the early morn.

Where in spring the merry martins build their nests beneath the caves.

And the hang bird swings her hammock 'mong the green and shady leaves,

Far from town and city spiender, free from tyranny secure,

Stands the county house of refuge, home of the deservin' poor ;

Built there by the county people for the poor and those in need

'Tis a monument of kindness. Heaven will reward the deed.

Lands ! they live like reignin' monarchs, seem ter be the favored few,

In thet home the people gave them, only one some ever knew.

Needn't talk ter me 'bout livin' in the city with its show,
Drnther live 'mong these surroundin's where the folks are rather slow,
'Mong the clover-scented meddersan' the fields of wavin' grain,
Where the brook a-down the hill-nide murmurs on with sweet refrain,.
Where the golden summer sun-set gikis the village church's dome —
There among tlie slantin' shadows, I would druther have my home.

: I

THEM ERE WIMMEN WANTS TER VOTE.

I don't want t«r be fault-finding with the wimmen nor ther views,
Tliey've a riglit ter ther opinion an' ter tell 'em if tliey choose,
Ner I don't like bosybodies pryln' in ner snoopin' 'round,
They are never in ther places, alus visitln' around.
Course I like ter see the wimnoen goin' 'round an' doin' good.
An' I like to see 'em havin' all the equal rights they should,
But when they get down to votin', over that I'll never gloat,
Don't think she was calculated fer ter 'lectioneer an' vote.

Don't think votJng is ther mission, though I know ther good ter scheme,

Couldn't be so much deceivin', bein' less than what they seem, • ,ij

Couldn't be so mean and sneakin', stealin' 'round a buy in' votes.

An' I'm 'fraid they'd flood the market with ther sto^k of new turn-coats

Now I think thet every woman has a good work to impart,

Thet there's a lovin' halo circle round a woman's heart,

An' I wouldn't like ter see her so degraded and remote,

Sneakin' 'round a buyin' turn-coats, runnin' ter the polls ter vote.

I was in m> garden weedln' out my beet an' onion beds,
When tow maidens sauntered by me thet had votin' in ther heads,
An' they hed a long petition signed by all the names afloat
Prayin' ter them chaps at " By-Town '' fer ter let the wimmen vote.
My old noddle got ter thinkin' 'bout 'em gals an' wimmen's rights,
I concluded what they needed was the real old marriage rites.
Then I thought perhaps they'd cast better men than me afloat,
Ooin' ter run the ship of state, goin' ter 'lectioneer and vote.

Didn't ask me fer ter sign it, guess they thought they'd better not,
I'm not tied fer thet ere subject an' I'm liable ter ruii hot.
But they went an' called on Banner, she lit on 'em rather stout.
Asked 'em all about the matter, fer she wanted ter And out.
Then thqy said the wtiiikey question didn t turn out as it should,

..,- .. f,-. . .. ^f' ■ . .*yJ:.;^

' «

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"I was in my (j^arden weedin' out my beet an' onion beds

When two damnels they pastied by nie thet hed vottn' in their heads.

IlHnnur asked 'em could they help it, said they rather thought they could.
Then oho nsked 'em if ther men folk didn't vote to keep it down,
HMid they didn't have no men folk, wouldn't have a man aroun',
Said fer men thoy didn't hanker on 'em they did never dote,
Druther be a platform itumper, druther 'lectioneer an' vote.

Now, I don't know mother's feelin's but Fli wager some with you
Thet she wouldn't swap me off, Sir, fer the Whig an' Tory crew,
An' the children. Heaven bless you, loves 'em more 'en tcngue can tell,
Nothin' pleases her old heart more than to know they're doin' well.
She worked hard to bring 'em up. Sir, had no time to chase aroiind,
Now they are a credit to her, 'bout the best there u around,
Yes, she guided '*^m all right, sir, taught 'em right from wrorig by note,
Had no tiiafi ter float pertitions, never cared ter run an' vote.

Mother, she's a legislator, but she's done it in her home.

Taught, the children ways an' means that will help them should they roam,

Settled all the family matters that arose from day to day.

An' a mighty strong debator if things didn't go her way.

Coui*se we've had our little squabbles, mostly alus me to blame,

But she never held no hardness, alus loved me just the same,

Reckon there would been a coolness if she'd tried to turn my coat.

Or went out lectioneerin', got some chap to spoil my vote.

Now, I think a woman should for her home give up her all,
She can make it hell or heaven, they are both within her call,
I don't mean to cage her up, sir, like a bird or beast of pi'cy,
Give her all the rights there are, let her run it just her way.
Say I wouldn't give a sentence of a lovin' woinan's prayer
For a hull years legislatin' of 'em politicians there,
But for 'em to go a-votin', over thet I'd never gloat.
They were never calculated fer ter 'lectioneer an' vote.

I'ro travelled round a bit, sir, an' I've failed to even trace
Anything so well adapted as a woman in her place.
When you henr a man amakin' 'bout h's wife a great ado.
You can alus bet your nickle she's the belt one of the tew
You can take the wide world over maybe not with sword or pen.
But a woman in her proper place is worth a dozen men.
But when she gets out a-votin', over that I do not gloat,
She was never calculated fer ter 'lectioneer er vote.

Only Ordinary Folks.

You may travel in this country from the centre to the sea
And you'll meet all kinds of people of a high and low degree ;
You will meet all kinds of people, as you tramp from place to place,
And most always tell their standing by a study of their face ;
You will meet the unpresuming and a ifew that "knows it all,'
You will meet the educated, and a heap with brass and gall,
You will meet the serious people a^nd the kind made up of jokes
But about the grandest people are just ordinary folks.

Now, perhaps the finest study that about you'll find
Is to study well yourself and the rest of mortal kind.
You will And a page of fiction wrapt up in each precious soul,
All a'acting in life's drama, playing each a different role.
Some play parts without a limit, others play a smaller game,
Some for love and some for money, some are playing for a name,
Some are little vines a'crecping, others tower like giant oaks,
But you'll find the best of people are just ordinary folks.

Yon will meet all kinds of Christians with their dogmas en their creeds ;
'Mong them find the Sunday Christian with his shady Monday deeds.
They will preach their varied doctrines, and their piety proclaim,
But there's many that are crooked and need watching just the same.
You will overtake some fellers that are polished to a fault.
Catching far more flies with sugar than they ever could with salt.
Course you'll meet some honest fellers, that ain't wearing of no cloaks —
Nothing counterfeit about 'em only ordinary folks.

You may take this thing for granted, fully settled in your mind,
That folks seldom get to towering much above their kin en kind,
But you'll notice, in discerning, if you're sly en closely scan,
Man can't make the woman, but the woman makes the man.
'Tis not always sterling manhood constitutes the belted knight ;
He will never make a hero if he warn't born to fight.
But the men to make the heroes, bear the burdens and the yokes,
You will find down in the district of the ordinary folks.

You may fancy hig^h {Kisitions with their titles and their gold,
Boast about yoar reigning monarchs, honoreH knights and princes bold
Take the world's great men and women of our times and long ugo,
They are not from off the highest, neither are they of the low
Mark the heroes and the leaders, mark the mighty men of state.
Mark the thinkers and inventors, mark all who are truly great.
Most of earth's great benefactors, men of minds with hearts of oak,
They are of the world's great army of just ordinary folk.

If the big world's sweetest singers only sang the higher tones,
How we'd long to hear the music of the mellow lower ones !
If the poets all were cultured, chanted but with cbissic art.
How we'd miss the simple ballad for to cheer the humble heart !
If but grandest chimes were ringing, if but largest bells were rung,
If but choicest organs bellowed, if the grandest choirs but sung,
How we'd miss the old time metres as the humble soul invokes,
How we'd m-^' the plaintive music of the ordinary folks !

If the maidens all were titled and were haughty, proud and vain,
Who would grace the rustic cottage of the honest toiling swain ?
Who would be the patient mother, who would heed the childish cry ?
Who would rock to sleep the children, sing the soothing lullaby,
Who would teach the lisping infant little easy words of prayer ?
Was there no kind, loving ruother, who would trouble, who would care ?
Give to me the shady saplings rather than the towering oaks ;
Let me have my habitation 'mong the ordinary folks.

Give to me the leafy sapling and love's little shady bowers—
You may linger in the shadow pf the mighty oak that towers
Give to me the wayside cottage and the little deeds of love—
You may have the gildci mansion you may tower and soar above.
Let me sing m common metre, in the mellow lower tones ;
You can be the first soprano, sing the classic higher ones.
Let me share in deeds of kindness, that in is all the heart invokes,
Just an ordinary mortal 'mong the urdinar> folks.

The Horse Trade.

My good mother taught me lessons that were worth my weight in gold,
En if I'd but practiced of them I'd been richer double fold.
When a lad out on the homestead, she would take me on her knee —
Think I could repeat a hundred maxims that she taught ter me.
There were 'bout a dozen of us by which the old home was blest,
But she seemed ter take an interest in me more than all the rest.
Can't tell why thet she took to me with her love and interest deep,
'Ccpt it was that I was reckless, en perhaps the blackest sheep
Strange that alus in a home fold filled with children great en small
There will be a favorite 'mong em, mother has a choice in all.

Well I won't take up your time. Sir, with the maxims at my call,
Per I know you ain't got time fer tew listen tew em all.
But if you'll just curb your temper, I will tell you one or two.
Then I'll trot on with my story en i'll hurry an' get through.
There is one thet I remember, which I've lately made my own.
It's "When pennies turn to pounds, why let well enough alone'*
'"Tisn't alus best of tradesman that you'll see with best of tools."
En "Fer eve**y real smart fellow, there's about four hundred fools.'
You may think you are the smartest of all the real smart kind,
But you'll run agin a feller some day thet will beat you blind.
En I've come tew the conclusion that I'm not the brightest gem
En of the four hundred foolish, well, I guess I'm one of them.

Once I thought thet I was posted en was pretty middlin' smart.
En could t«ll a piece of horse-flesh from a load of hay er cart,
An' I had an old*tlme servant thet I'd owned for twenty year.
He was a kind of stand by and ter all the family dear.'
Why, I used ter drive him courtin' 'mong the maidens near an' fer,
En my wife she*s often told me that he helped in winnin' her.
Well, he was a winnin' feller, worth his weight in worldly pelf,
Fer when we was courtin' sometimes he would have to drive himself
But he had got old en shaky en he had a heavy cough.
So I thought I'd pat him into shape en try en trade him off.

I dtctond up his hcavey cough and drove him down ter town,

En it was my ffvput intentions fer ter do some dealer brown.

F'ei* the old horse looked the slickest en my schemes en plans were made,

Po if I ran across a dealer why I'd stump him fer a trade.

Well, I overtook a feller thet was in the tradin' line,

HeM a younger lookin'.pellpr but in no such shape as mine.

When we used the usual par'ey, such as all horse traders do,

I admit our crooked stories wouldn't grace a church's pew,

Ker they wouldn't become a parson ner a deacon none the less.

Though they often swap their horses they don't lie so much I gue^s.

When he asked me 'bout his age, then I set my schemes afloat,

En you bet 1 didn't tell him he was old enough tew vote,

Couldn't tell it by his teeth — fer I had em all filed off—

Had him do[<ed for em ere blow heaves en he never gave a cough.

I was lookin' round his pelter, pickm' here and there a flaw,

When he said " He's true as steel. Sir, do you good ter see him draw."

So, wheii we had disagreed en talked a half a day about

We decided tew some loafers there thet we would leave it out.

Then thev looked the horses over en decided, if 'twould suit.

That I should have a difference, thet is, a little boot.

They decided on five dollars, then I felt my conscience grip,

But you see I got the money an' I let the old horse slip.

En forgot him ?— No, I'll never, for a tear came to my eye

When he gave a little whinner just as if ter say good-bye.

Say, em chaps were his disciples, they'd swapped for him many a time,

En the horse they let me have. Sir, why he wasn't worth a dime.

" See him draw " he said would please me, reckon it would please me some,

Wasn't drawin' when we traded ner he wouldn't draw me home.

Guess he wasn't made for drawin', hasn't drew a pound since then,

He could scarcely draw his breath. Sir, wouldn't draw a settin' hen.

Now, my wife was dead agin this, en the children all did cry,

So I went ter see thet trader an' ter get him back did try.

When he said I was a kicker en a squealer from the start,

Why I said I'd stand the bargain though it nearly broke my heart.

So I started fer the homestead, en about the hardest blow

Was to meet my wife en cliildren, have em ask about Old Joe.

I'd of given all the horses over which I drew a rein

Just ter drove thet all black pelter home tew wife and child again.

Why I longed ter see him feedin' down there on the pasture land

En ter hoar the children call him, see em feed him from their hand.

Here's another little lesson, for which one I've dearly paid,
Alonjf with many others thet I learned through that ere trade :
Lads can set toy ships a-sailin'. draw them in from their string's ends,
Bnt a man can't allns do thet when he's partin' w th old friends.
Well I went ter tradin' round, Sir, with them schemers en them beats,
Lcavin' of it out ter en a-settin' up the treats.
Till I got ter be a loafer, got ter be a tradin' crank.
Didn't have a horse's halter, didn't have a halter shank.

' With 'em schemeru an' 'em beats."

Then I traded calves and heifers, traded hogs en traded cows,

Trucked and traded lumber wagons, traded sulkier,' t''ade(l plows,

Traded roostere, traded pullets, traded of the shephei'd cur,

En if wife she hadn't kicked, guess I'd been a-tradin' her.

Traded watches, traded jack-knives, goin' from the bad ter worse.

Everything it had tew swap, Sir, got ter be a reg'lar curse.

En for me, well, I was runnin' 'round the district here en there, '

Why I wouldn't put a fence up, fer the farm I didn't carei

En there seemed ter come a blight, fer the crops they wouldn't grow

Guoss it was a visitation fer the way I'd used Old Joe.

Luck it seems ter be agin me, gaess Old Nick was on my track.
En I'd vowed I go a huntin' fer Old Joe and bring him back.
Boards were off the barn en stable, hinges of the cow shed door,
Sheep en cows in spring were dyin', what was left was thin en poor.
Wife, she used ter scold en jaw me, used ter fret en cry en frown »
Said I'd better go en stay there with them loafera in the town,
En what used tew grieve me sorely was tew hear the children low
Pleadin' in their little prayers fer ter bring em back Old Joe.
They were alus talkin' 'bout him, wonderin* if he was cold,
Hopin' no one would abuse him, poor old fellow now so old.

*H'ed become so old and useless they bad turned bin out to die.

Well when I arose one momin' it was stormin' sleet en rain,

Just as true as I am talking, Old Joe he stood in the lane,

There he stood. Sir, cold en hungry, just ter see him made me sigh.

He'd become so old en useless they bad turned him out tew die.

Say, I ran right out en took him to the stable right away,

En I rubbed him till he warmed. Sir, filled the manger full of hay.

Wasn't I a tickled mortal, well yon bet it pleased me some.

Why I'd put him in the parlor bur I'd make him feel at home

All the children ran to see him. on he knew em everyone.

En my wife she almost kissed him, just ter see her it was fun.

Tell we nursed him like like a baby, en he seemed ter take new life,
[ad his coat all slick and shinin', did the children en my wife,
Sn he seemed ter turn our fortune, fer I stopped a-runnin' round,
In in just a year er tew, Sir, my credit it was sound.

[n the spring we let him pasture 'mong the apple trees in bloom,
^here the children they could pet him, where my wife could feed en groom,
^hy they wouldn't let me hitch him, wouldn't even let him rake,
lardly let him switch the : 'es off, wouldn't drive him to the lake,
[e stayed with us quite a while, Sir, think it was ten or eleven year,
^hen the poor old fellow died, Sir, that whole household shed a tear.
!]n we laid him on the hill-side, 'mong the clover en the corn,

[n the field he'd plowed so often, on the farm where he was born.

'This, Sir, is my tradin' story, guess you're glad thet I've got through.
Though I've stretched yarns 'bout my horses, this 'ere one I vow 'tis true.
There has been a reformt ,tion, thet is, in regards ter me,
Now, I am a prosperous farmer en contented as can be,
En I tell this little story fer ter warn some other chaps
Thet I know are alus tradin' en a truckin' old traps.
Now, this settin' 'round the village, tradin' en a-tellin' yarns
Won't put bushels in yer bins ner nail shingles on your barns.
It won't keep the cook -stove hummin' ner won't buy your winter clothes.
With me it's been demonstrated, you may bet it's me thet knows.

The Criticisin' Deacon

In this 'ere busy century good books are very few,
The wordin' little cared for if the subject is but new ;
Tile subjects too are nearly done on which to found a tale,
The plots are worn and threadbare the humor old en stale.
At the best they're imitations, just a lot of wordy trash.
Wrote up by some schemin' fellers that's a fishin' fer the cash,
En they have such horrid titles that ter read em gives me pain,
Have to get my dear old Bible fer tew set me right again.

I don't think the've eny right, sir, ter be gainin' public reps,
Writin' of a fiction novel, callin' of it " In His Steps " ;
Don't think they have eny rights in the pulpit er the pew
Ter be judgin the Redeemer er a tellin' what he'd do.
Course they say it's of the Master written in His holy name.
Sir, I don't believe 'em fellers. It's fer money er fer fame ;
We're unfit to trace his footsteps, take the purest en the best,
Thet is round this eastern district, mebbe the'yre better west.

Trytn' to outdo the scriptures en them saintly men of old.
They that wrote the wondrous story, sweetest story ever told :
Preachin' of such awful sermons shocks me when I hear era tell
'Bout a certain modern city en its seven roads to Hell.
Don't believe that modern city was so bad and void of grace,
Wonder if 'twas eny better with that preacher in the place.
Often wonder if destruction was to visit that ere spot
If that preacher of sensation was culled out as was Lot.

I don't wonder at em sayin' that the church is goin' back,

Think the ministers in general arc off the beaten track,

They take politics to conference then wrangle o'er them there,

En ter polibh up the matter end the parley up with prayer.

Then they don't preach as they used ter, haven't got the savin' grace,

Got ter doublln' 'bout that brimstone, run they're chance on t'other place.

At the good old time revivals hundreds turned tew lives anew.

Now they're doln' mighty wonders if they get back one or two.

I'm a hearin' that a preacher wants ter run the printin' press,

He'll find some work connected with it en some brains required I guess,

He will have to write en comment on the topics of the times.

Get fer pay more cast-iron slander then he will in silver dimes.

When his wages ain't collected by the church committeeman,

En tew keep away the sheriff he is forced to scheme en plan,

Has ter deal with cranks en poets en the public on the whole.

Then I reckon he will wonder if the people have a soul.

When he has tew write up politics en politicians all,

En polish up a scandal en every drunken brawl.

En write up a country weddin' en put all presents in.

Have ter please a readin' public which is very thin of skin

When he has to rack his think-pot fer to right the wrong thet's done

En ter kink his neck a wntchin' some grieved feller with a gun,

Guesa he'll think it faint no picnic ner no social barbecue.

Bet he'll long fer thet ere pulpit where he had to please but few.

If he thinks ter run a paper don't require no extra brains.
En thet all thet's necessary is tow scribble, count the gains
When subscribers wants tew pay him off in rotten wood en hay.
Then he'll need all his religion en he'll need it every day

I He'll need all his religloii en a little cash to spare,
Fer he'll find the hard-up printer doesn't lake his pay in prayer.

I He will ne«d ter get up early en ttr stay up kinder Inte,
Fer- there won't bo no co lunittee-man tew pass around the plate.

He will have tor bo a storehouse filled with knowledge by the way,

Fer ter furnish information for a mighty little pay;

Have to boil his notes en comments en be careful 'bout reports

Er he'll find himself defendant in the hearrless IIIkjI courts.

He will need tow stretch his stories when the news is runnin' sHm,

When he strikes the " Woman's Column " reckon thet will settle him

Then I reckon he will hanker for the pulpit en the pow

En that quiet little chapel where he had to please but ttw.

[(tucBH it Is a speculation, just another western fak'j.
Fer tew advertise their paper and to raise a little stake.
I It will go well for a season en take well for a ^'iiile ;
It will be a novel feature, and ho oughter make a pile.

Wonder 'bout how long he'll run it ; I suppose it will depend
How the people they take to it and the future dividend ;
In the runnin' of that paper, say, I reckon he'll discern
More about men en their manners, then he ever hopes ter learn.

I'm just kickin' in the traces, but don't think me mean en small.

But I don't believe thet preacher, more than I do, know it all ;

Better stick to his religion, better wait en watch en pray,

Er like many other fellers, he'll be losin' it some day.

Keep a givin to the needy ; tew the troubled speak n' cheer,

En the world it will be better just for his a livin' here.

Keep a-preachin', keep a-prayin', scatter round the Christian crumbs ;

Don't be judgin' the Redeemer, he will right things when he comes.

The Life Insurance Man

I've Tx'en d^gffin' on the farm now ni^h on to twenty year.

And I'm r'ch in bought experience thHt I've paid for mig^hty dear;

I've run the smooth-tongued frauntlet of chaps a hundred times

Who've come around with patent tbinpfs a-fi-^hin' for my dimes.

There's been the patent draf^ man, men with patent fannin' mills.

And smooth-tongued chaps with sulky plows and scores of patent drills ;

All had a different story, all had a different plan,

Bat the smooth'st, slick'st feller was the life insurance man.

He came around one summer when the crops were lookiu' well,

And he kind of picked out Banner his story for to tell ;

He worked on Hanner's feelin's ; well that's not hard to do.

For H^nner, like all good wimmen, has a heart that's kind and true.

He told her death-bed stories, and he said that " every wife

Should have a big insurance upon her husband's lifo."

Then he sent my Banner to me with a silver-plated plan.

Yes, he was t'.ie slick'st feller, that life insurance man.

He hinted that a country lifo fer him it had a charm.
And started then to compliment nie upon my stock and farm;
By lookin' at a farmer's stock he said that he could tell
Whether the farmer was behind or whether doin' well.
I thought the matter over and I wondered how he would.
But I've come to a conclusion and rather guess he could ;
For he was a knowin' feller with the slickest little plan,
That real slippery-elm i^chemer, the life insurance man.

He said he idolized my team and made some other vows.

He asked what cheese was sellln' and all about my cows ;

He asked 'bout my religion, and when he learned the name,

He said he kind of thought so and said ho was the same.

And when we sal down to dinner he made a little prayer.

But when my bees they stung him Banner thought the heard him swear ;|

Guess he was the biggest hypocrite of all the schemin' clan,

That nickel-plated, educated, life insurance man.

Now. my Banner has influence over me 1 inn»t admit,

And when she told that feller's yams it tonehed me qaite a bit^

And knowin' she had alius been a good and faithful wife,

I consented there and then for insurance on my life.

And she said to make the payment thsrt they had planned it all.

For she'd take the turkey money and meet it in the fall.

Yes, he was the slickest feller and he has the slickest plan.

He's veneered and highly polished, the life insurance man.

When I thought the matter over and concluded It was square,

If Hanner she insured me, to insure her was but fair ;

Now, that's just what he was fishing for, the consummated cuso,

He said that for a trifle more he'd insure both of us.

So he wrote up two agreements for her and I to sign,

I held Hanner's fer two thousand, and Hanner she held mine ;

He kind of smiled politely, as only agents can,

For he is a polished feller— the life insurance man.

The note was eighty dollars, I thought it rather steep
For Hanner and I to grub for and pay out in a heap ;
Then he smiled again so winning and said he'd figured out
That the turkey cash would pay it or somewhere thereabout.
He said the risk was very great, as we were growing old.
That ere the turkey killin' time, in death we might be cold ;
Then he squeezed a little tear out to moisten up his plan.
He's a sympathetic feller— the life insurance man.

He told kind-hearted Hanner that •' she could rest content,
H I died she'd get the money though I'd never paid a cent."
She thought that a good investment and I did too the same.
And to the cast iron documents we scribbled down our name.
He thanked us very kindl> and said it did him good
To see a cot pie doin' fer each other as they should,
An(\ said he, I'll come and sec you as often as I can,
And wo cried, both mo and Hanner, o'er the life insurance man.

Yes, the pa .n' it was friendly, but it ended there yon bet.
And though I've l)ecn looking for him, I haven't seen him yet ;
Hut there camt a writtin' token which was worded rather frank.
Which informed both me and Hanner that our notes wore in the hank.

And that we prepare to meet them seemed to be the chief request,
And it never even mentioned the turkeys or their nest.
Yes, that precious little token upset the whole year plan,
For the cheese money went to pay the life insurance man.

Tlie chickcTi crop was a failure, and for the turkeys, they —
Well, what the foxes didn't steal, ^ot drowned in the whey,
Kut I paid it every cent, Sii' ; then I made * solemn vow,
And I'd like to see the agent that I'd blubber over now.
I've been readin' up the prize fights, put myself in fightin' trim ;
If I run across that feller, I will even up with him ;
But he deserves some credit for the way he worked his plan ;
I admit he is a corker— that are life insumnce man.

The Old Cow Bell.

You may boast of classic music with
its grace notes and its swells,

Boast about your grand pianos and
your high toned chiming .ells,

Of your horns and harps and organs
tuned up to the highest C,

But the old time metal cow bell some-
how has a charm for me.

It restores to me fond memories,
cheers my wanderings to an* fror

Takes me back to home and mother,
to the happy long ago,

To a little rustic cottage, to the
meadows in the dell,

I'm a boy just for the moment, lis-
tening to that old cow-bell.

I remember the log stable, with its boarded gables grey,

Where beneath the eaves the swallows built their cosy nests of clay ;

"i Miember the old farm-barn and the shed with opening wide

' \:.'<fi the sheep would stamp defiance at the collie by my side ;

:' 3 old corn crib and hay ricks and the unthreshed stooks of grain,

■ )f t ; fat'.; y I can see them standing 'long the narrow lane ;

And the:* bteels a longing o'er me for those scenes I loved so well

When I ran to hunt the cattle, list'ning for the old cow-bell.

I remcntber the old chapel standing on the shady knoll,
The old dam and water mill and the old time "swimmin' hole,"
Where we'd burn our backs to blisters running naked in the sun.
There we'd gather in the twilight when the day's hard task was done.
How I long to see my playmates, grasp their little sun-burnt hands.
Meet them on the village green wFere the dear old school-house stands,
Scamper o'or the hills and meadows, through the woodlands, down the dell,
Run away and drive the cattle, listen to the oiU cow-bell.

usic with
ells,
Einos and

,8ll8,

lid organs
■>%

bell some-
memories,
;o an' fro»
d mother,

^■es, it calls me back to childhood, to companions youne and gay,
^'o the old fai'm and the homestead with its voof moss-grown and grey ;
'!o the maples and the elms, where the song bird built her neft,
!^o that little turret bed-room, there to take a pleasant rest ;
> the old friends and the best, to that girl sweet-heart so shy.
)ft I fancy we are strolling through the woodlands she and I —
Ls we pluck the nodding daises, gather ferns adown the dell,
iFrom th») pasture-lands old brindle gently tinkles the cow bell.

[often when the hay was making and the cattle had not come,
j'Twould be late ere I would scamper off to hunt and bring them heme
[Hat in hand I'd run with fleetness, my young heart so filled with fear,
[Halting here and there a moment that old cow-bell just to hear —
[Calling " co-boss " in my fleeing thinking it would serve to scare,
[riasting many glances backwards lest things catch me unaware.
{How my heart would beat with gladness as upon my ears there fell
Just the faintest tinkle, tinkle of the old time metal bell.

9, to the

tment, lis-
ell.

How it filled my heart with courage, that faint tinkle from afar,
As the strains of martial music spur the soldiei*s on to war ;

I Through the the thickest bush and bramble, fearlessly then I would go
Just to hear that tinkling cow-bell, then I feared no woodland foe.
Soon the cattle would be wending down the long and narrow lane,
I behind them blithe and merry, whistling on in sweet refrtiin,

I Could I but return to childhood, to those scenes I loved so well,
Be a boy, go hunt the cattle, listen for the old cow-bell.

Ah, the years have been so varied since I left that cottage home.

Still those childhood scenes they cheer me as afar I whither roam.

And a longing sweet steals o'er me, back through many years now fled,

To the room beneath the rafters, to that little trundle bed.

To the old friends 'round the homestead, to a boy so blithe and gay,

Sharing in a mother's kindness 'round her knee at close of day.

Scampering o'er the hills and meadows, through the woodlands down the

dell,
Run away to drive the cattle, listen to the old cow bell.

You may boast of classic music with its grace notes and its swells.
Boast about your grand pianos and your high-toned chiming bells,
Of your horns and harps and organs tuned up to the highest C,
Uut the old time metal cow bell somehow has a charm for me.

WHEN THEY PAINT THE KITCHEN FLOOR

I can sfnnd tlir spi'i'iT^-tinic f''c;i;i-
np, with the tliiiiji'Ss all ujismIc
down,

When tlie mcalsi ai-o always late
and my Tlannor Avears a fr>wii;

I don't mind bltic Monday's wa;<li
in' nor tlio baby liowliir ni2rht><,

I can just Uiy down iuid slumber
for I know thet's baby's rljiflus;

1 can stand the cows a-jnmpin'
and a-f»'ettin<;^ in the coi-n,

And the turkeys {jettin' lost never
causes me to mourn ;

These a feller quite p-ets used tit,
all them thinj^sand many more.

Hut it kind of knocks n)e out like
when they paint the kitchen
floor.

That old kitchen is piy home, Sir, rainy days and every ni^Hit.
And of course I like it tidy and the floor scrubbed {^-ood and white
But why they should daub and paint it, try its beauty to beguile,
I have never really larne.d, 'copt it was just for the style.
Now I alnt no high-toned feller, just a farmer out in Leeds,
And I pretty near come knowin' what an old time kitchen needs,
And I'm willin' fer tew settle all the bills down at the store.
But I'm hanged if I will settle for thet paint thet's on the floor.

Them old pine boards, they were plenty ppood enough for wife and me,
But since Jack brought his new woman it is different, you see,
And the wlmen they'll be wimen, let them come from near or fer,
And when the new wife she said " paint," Manner sided in with her ;

So they painted it a yeller, least-wise that's what Hanner said,
And the neiglibor wimen spiff around and say they like the shade.
Perhaps I'll ^et to like it maybe better than before,
But at present I'm agin it — thet are paint upon the floor.

Yes, they made me eat my dinner in the woodshed for a week,
And they'd kind o' snap rae up like if about the fk)or I'd speak.
Pointed the old sprint broom handle, put some on the old wood-box,
Made me put on carpet slippers or walk over it in my socks,
Painted up the back verander, then they took my poor old dog
That had always slept upon it and they chained him to a log-.
Lucky thing I had the deed. Sir, or they'd have put me out the door
While that cussed stuff was drying on thet old farm kitchen floor.

Ye?, I'd ruther have the floor all scrubbed up so good and white,
Foi" it seems to me more home like when Im settin' 'round at night,
Get my pipe and plug tebacker out to take my usual smoke.
Dry my old grey woollen socks, jokin' with the wimmen folk,
Oct my old bark-bottomed chair cocked up somewhere in a nook,
Thee I can enjoy myself with the paper or a book,
There the hours they steal by swiftly, maybe two and maybe four,
But they seem so kind of weary since they painted the old floor.

Wife, she says I'm like some heathen thet I 1.:, j'nt any soul,
Thet I'd stay out in the kitchen like a badger in his hole.
Course, I can't hurt Hanner's feelin's, wouldn't do it for the earth,
But I wish of patent floor paint there had come a sudden dearth.
Lands, I wouldn't give a corner in that kitchen by the stove
For all your new fangled houses and your tix-ups by the drove,
Many happy years I've lived there, hope to live there many more,
But the things they seem agin me since they painted the old floor.

Now I think I've done my stint and share of grubbin' on the farm,
And that old-time kitchen yonder for rae seems to have a charm,
I've laid by a little money, guess enough to put me through.
There are lots of men that's richer, but then what I have will do,
And I never was a loafer, people can't call me a shirk.
For the callus on these fingers tell a story of hard work,
But don't think that I'm complainin' 'bout the things that's past and
No I'm just agin that yeller paint that's on thet kitchen floor.

oer,

The Pious Africander.

I've fought in many lands, sir, 'gin many worthy foes,

En I'm goin' ter follow old John Bull no matter where be goes ;

I've been a soldier true, sir, since I was twenty-one,

In fact since I was big enough I've lugged around a gun ;

En I have a dozen medals that I could show tew you,

I've been cheered by many people en censured by a few ;

Some say I am a murderer en bear a murderous taint

Fer wantin' equal rights with that Afrigander saint.

He's a curious kind of critter, fer him I 'aint got no use.

With his ever present Bible and his traitor flag of truce ;

1 aint nothing gin his Bible ner his quaint religious rhyme,

But I don't believe in bein' saint and sinner at a time.

Lands! they'll use all kinds of meanness,then they'll rant about their souls,

Catch you in a barred-wire death trap then they'll shoot you full of holes ;

Do you think an honest Briton should be governed by restraint,

E'r thet he should court his conscience when he's fightin, with this saint.

Do you think a fightin' Briton, sir, should any mercy show,
Er even curb his temper when he corners such a foe ;
As ler me I say go at em. never mind about abuse.
Never mind his schemin' prayers ner his traitor flag of truce ;
Never mind em jealous natives, it matters tiot from where they come,
Let em all pitch in thet wants ter, Johnnie Bull they'll find at home ;
They can blow, en boast en brag, en at Britain insults throw,
But this saintly Afrigander bet your pile he's got ter go.

I have fought the skulkin' Zulus in the far away Soudan.
En ninety thousand natives way out at Omdurman ;
Fought and run the bloody injuns in the west of Canada,
Wliere John Ball has had a squabble I've been there en in the fray,
I have fought the dusky Kaffirs with their sly guerilla pranks,
An we've licked ten thousand Fenians belonging to the Yanks ;
Fonght all kind of men en manners, ain't a making no complaint,
But thet wooly Afrigander is a curious kind of Saint.

Say, they talk about decadence of the Briton in a sense,

Wonder what they think of Buller now en little " Bobs " and French ;

Wonder if they think 'thet boastin' en braggin' now en then,

Ever captured Mr. Cronje and six thousiuid plucky men ;

They aint got a leader 'raong cm thet would join in such a fray,

Tliere's would laze about a hammock six or seven miles away,

There would be some tall com plain in' more than beef would have a taint

If they bad to face the bullets of this Afrigander saint.

Wonder how they like the union of Britannia en her sons,
Seemed ter think thet no one else but the Boers could handle guns ;
Wonder how Canadians suit them which they kind of termed as crash.
What about them storroin' trenches, what about their gallant dash.
If you think Canucks are cowards en thet they were made to run
Why you just run up agin em en I'll gamble you'll see fun,
Say, they fight just like old timers, not the kind ter run er faint,
Didn't mind the flyin' ballets of thet Afrigander s«int.

Sir. it kind of riles me up like en I take a fightin' fit,
When they say the Brits are winnin' en a loosein' all their grit ;
Never say a word 'bout fightin' ner don't wait till we get through,
But when we have got our hands full they will tell what they can do.
^loess I'd better warn em fellers, em are chaps that all condemn,
We're accommodatin' fellers en perhaps we'll call on them,
Better get your musket polished so you won't have no complaint,
We'll be calloused by em ballets of thet Afrigander saint.

I've fought in many battles, sir, in many different climes,
I've dodged a thousand bullets en been hit a score of times ;
I've fought with pesky Injuns, en warriors great en small,
But this pious Afrig9,nder I allow he beats em all.
Perhaps I am a murderer, but for him I have no use.
En I wouldn't mind his prayin' ner his traitor flag of truce ;
Hope I may get over it, and outlive this murderous taint.
But this pious Afrigander is a curious kind of saint.

An Old-Time Meetin'

Wpnr. tew Qaaker qnarterly meeting held down at the old time place,
M«>r the- old time friends an' Quakers, 'twas a wondrous time of grace.
Didn*r. have ii«) h\g pipe organ fer ter sound an' swell an' peal,
Didn't have no paid sopraner fer ter screech an' scream an' squeal.
Didn't have no togged-up preacher, built of collar an' of cuff,
With his elocutin' powers an' a lot of moderen stuff-^
Didn't have no pimpy usher fer ter bow an' scrape and smile,
Fer ter fiiit witli blushin' maidens an' ter tip-toe up the aisle —
Just set round on wooden benches, wasn't any cushioned pew,
Wliy 'em old time wooden seat& somehow seemed to welcome yon.

Wasn't any amen corner ferr ter groan o'er sins that'^ done,
Wasn't any devil's corner, laughin' an' a-makin' fun,
Didn't have no fellers shoutin', nor no wimmen mj>kin' show,
Didn't have no big discussion 'bout the high chmtii ei' the low.
Just set there in solemn silence, as in days of " Auld Lang Syne,"
In communion with the Spirit with our thoughts on things divine.
When the Spirit moved a brother in that sacred, silent place,
Then you'd hear old fashioned gospel of a never-dying grace —
Nothin' high fnlutin' 'bout it, gospel fer the hungry soul,
Not made up of art en grammar, but the kind that mt^kes us whole.

Theh a sister, true an' tender, in a voice so sweet and calm,
Told the oft repeated story of the meek and blessed Lamb,
Told of how he loved the needy, how he calmed the the troubled sea,
How he comforted the fishers on the shores of Galilee —
Talked of unbelievin' Thomas, who the cruel wounds had seen,
Talked about 'em base accusers an' poor Mary Magdalene-
Spoke of Enoch, pure and patient, talked about the realms bright,
Till the walls in that old chapel seemed tew bear a hallowed light —
Spoke of things so pure an' lovely, things ter sooth a troubled mind.
Didn't even mention brimstone, everything was calm an' kind.

^B LLJLJJJ'.??

" Jiist sat there in solemn silence with our thoug-hts on tilings divine."

Tolfl US how tlie grojit. Jehovah healed the sick and raised the dend
HjuI no earthly liabitjition, knew not where to lay his hcMd —
Didn't h.'jve no earthly mansion, in a common nianifer born,
Dwelt anionjr the poor and lonely, feasted on the jfrowii)' oorn -
Didn't have no towerin' temjile, with st»nrd {fiass an:l <rild(d oni *,
Didn't have no bi^ fixed wages, didn't e^en have a home —
Wasn't any form \mr dogm s, never boa-ted of a cie* d.
Didn't form no trusts ner combines, preached ajxin the I (w of o-reed —
Tang-ht ot charity an' love, taug^ht the common botlie!- liood,
Pointed tew the realms above, went about a doin<z 'Jfo-d

Ere I thoujrht me, I was living" in the hazy, misty past,

In the happy days of boyhood when the world was not so fasT.

When there wasn't so irmch worry 'luait ti.e style ;in<l 'I'onr the d:«'ss,

When llie people they wore licmesrTin m weie lia| | 'ei'. I vuet^s —

When there wasn't many classes, sceial sets nrd little lirf^.

An' the folks they wasn't wrapt up with the iUety, raiMly thinirs —

When there wasn't so much slandei' en tlieie wa-ii'r so mich strife,

An' there wasn't any law court fer tew ) ur awMV a v.iie-

uhen yourg love knew no dis-tintt'on an' its obsfaeUf- woe it w,

If your love was rich and handsc me she r.o letter was than yiu.

I cpuld see fhe Fiiends, the Quakers, coniin' tew the little town,
Every Sunday, every Thursday, in their humspun suit of brown-
See their silver locks a flowin' from beneath their great broadbrims^
Ht>ar 'em from their waergons hummin' em old metres of the hymns-
See the good old Quaker mothers in quaint bonnet an' drab shawl,
'Twas among 'em I found Hanner, she the fairest was of all.
In a little now d>*ab shaker, I could see her sittin' there.
An' her little chubby features looked so handsome, young en fair —
She was sittin' by her mother, sweetest thing I ever see.
As she peeked aroun' that shaker fer ter get a peek at roe.
Something then disturbed, aroused me, an' my musin's put to end.
An' my hand was clasped in friendship by a kind old Quaker friend-
That s the Quaker's benediction wishin' well to thee an' thine,
Seems ter be so kind and God-like, be so lovin' and divine.

I li Talk about your new religion with its pomp and stylish ways,
Doesn't seem ter be in union with the grea^ Creator's praise —
With the hir.*h paid priest an' parson, with its creed and social ring,
Where the Saviour is but mentioned and the monied man is king —
With the mouldin' all a-glitter, spires that point toward the sky,
Plainly, they're no poor man's temple, couldn't build 'em up so high.
Go ye to the cities, see them, there they lift their gilded head.
While beneath their mighty shadows little children cry for bread,
An' the parents of those children with their faces wan an' thin,
Labor fer the wealthy members for a. wage as low as sin.

Now I ain't a-criticisin' ner a finding fault an' such.

An perhaps I am a-sayin' 'bout this matter far tew much.

If I am, you'll please forgive me in the good old fashioned way,

An' perhaps things will look brighter when I have anotlier say.

An' remember, I ain't sayin' they're unchristianlike an' small,

Fer, a-talkin' things iii general there's good an' bad in ail.

An' of coarse I've gut my failin's am no better than the rest,

But to do the little good I can' I'll try my livin' best,

An' of the new rellj^ons, perhaps I'm far behind.

But I'd like my future anchor moulded like the good old kind.

"4*,

The Buildin' Committee.

Thet fine cliapel standin' yondor, on tliet little raise of pfi'ound,

It l)as been a kind of light-liouse tew the district iiere around.

It's a kind of ancient relic of old-tiuie relig:iuus praise,

Hn a monument to piety en prayer of other days.

It was rouffh en nnpreten^ious, nothin' bout it ter beguile,

iJaili to stand the winri en weather more en it was built for style.

lOn the pioneers thet built it, en with reverence held it dear,

Thev arc rcstin' from their labors in a little church-vard near.

It had jQfot tew Io(<kin' shabby, 'bout ter tumble on our heads —

V'ou could throw a g:ood-si2ed house-cat out through either of the shods

The old walls were dark and grimey from the ceilin' to the Hoor,

Didn't look ter be invitin', just tew look in at the door.

The old spile was cracked en creaky en about ter tumble down ;

On the whole, 'twas not in keepin' with the other ones in *(>wn.

'Hout the only thing of credit, en tor say looked kinder go»d,

Was the grassy little hill-top wljc.e the <r"d-tlme temple s* ood.

We decided theft we'd Hx it en rebuild it up low date,
Kn tew get the needed money, why, we'd pass uround the plate.
Passed it 'round ter saint en sinnor, just tew members didn't go,
Didn't want tew hurt their fet^liii's, so we give 'em all a show,
Well, we got the money promised, en the most of it was good,
<»>uite en( tew fix the chapel as a christian people shouh'
Then we formed a Church ('onunittee ler ^ew plan en overstc,
Hut it turned out thet wo formed it for te'v meet en disagree

Some were for a buildin' greater, tearin' down e»i l)nil;Hn now,
v)tlic?'8 thought with some odd patchin' i\w old hii utnic it Would do.
Deacon t^elfwlll kind of hlnteu, if they we u. te • '.ct-.iln down,
Why they " just could do the payln', for \\v wouldti'i ji^lve a poun' "
Deacon Show he thought it In^tter ter add on ai.jther spire,
Deacon Dry he thougiit it cheaper for tew build the walls up higher.
D«'acon (irowl he wanted this en Deacon Crank he wanted thet —
Didn't come to a decision, though a year or moro they met

Deacon Good lie made a model, had the ehiircli a-lookin' great —
The Ccnmittee didn't like it, said it wasn't up-to-date.
Then they held another meetin', burnin' wood en burnin' light —
Sakes ! the thing got ter be chronic, g'^4. tew meetin' every night.
(Jot tew geeiii' en a-hawin', pullin' cross-ways all the time,
Till snbsc'ibcrs got disgusted, said they wouldn't give a dime.
(yot ter piillin' at the Pialtcr, got ter kickin' in the stall.
Went tew balkin' in the traces, didn't fix the church at all.

Now the preacher was a mortal thet you don't meet every day,
Never practiced modifyin' anything he had tew say.
Hacked with courage his convictions, in a way not always smooth,
Kn in scornin' politicians guess he told tew many truths,
No he wasn't no deceiver, wasn't no sweet singin' bard,
lie was a good-meanin' feller, but he ment it rather hard.
Course, the preacher, he would build it, estimatin' on the cost,
Hut when he would make a motion, why, of course the motion lost.

The Copiinittee kept a-meetin' until Conference came 'round,

Hut tiie fixiii' of the chapel wasn't gainin' any ground.

So, the preacher went tew ConferiMice, en as his time was spent,

Why he .^ot another cii'cuit, en a new num here was sent.

Didn't have no more religion then the one we had before,

He'd a better stock of foresight, though, en j)olicy in store

lie was (piite a different feller, en right from the very start,

lie commenced tew build a temple right upon the people's heart.

Kn I guess the other feller had been giviu" him some tips,
Fer the lixin' of tliet chapel, why, it never passed his lips.
Kii he preached such flowery sermons, in a manner nnck en mild,
Thet the nu'mlK^rs they took tew him just lik«» any lovin' child.
Preached away until thet lOastt-r, when the wonuMi all turned out,
Then he preached a sei'inon fer 'em, give it to '«'m goed en stout.
'Twas a millinery openin', kind of a dressmakers' show —
lied prepared a huildin' sermon, en tlitit day he let it go.

Said he liked tew see the people have their homes en clothin' line,
Kn he prayed fer a ih»w chapel, so thet all eouhl ho in line ;
Spoke ai)ont the worth of money, said you might be worth a town,
iJut when it canjo down to dyin", twouldn't buy a starry crown ;

.•53

Preached t\ very touchin' sermon tew ns nil tliet Easter mVht,
Va\ he broui^iit tip fer exaiiiph; Mie |>0( r widow en her niiu- :
Touched the hearts of all the women, moved tew tears the stinj>>' men,
Kn they started in tew fixin' the old ciiftpel there en then.

I' ivi th»'t never jifave n nickel loosed their purse string's the next day,
}J;u. no difference 'bout it costin', they were leadv fer tew pay.
.\< fe." me. I aint too clever, ner i aint too yra-^pin' bad,
After thet 'ere Easter sermon Ed a j^iven half I had.
liand ! the women took tew workin', en of course, Sir, j;8 you know,
When th(! women take ter drivin', why, the najf has j^ot ler ji,^o.
When it j^'cts rijfht «lown tew schemin workin' out a knotty i)lan,
Why, you take, a workin' womHU en tdu'll bent a brainy num.

Ves, they fixed the church ui» handsome— See it fjlitter in the sun I
Sakcs! they never (jait a-workiti' after they had once be^^un ;
Never had a disafjreement, never had a fuss nor r(»w,
Worked t( ,'<.'tlier like a farni team pnllin' on tlu* faller plow;
(ioi the: ehnreii all done en pnid for, Hrus«v Is carpet o\\ the Hoor,
I'ut in pT' at Tiiemorial winders, silver platii/'on the door ;
Krci-i-Ma ,'\)! ihf walls en eeilin's in tln^ lastest of desij;ii —
'Tin a c\!.''}i': U'»v the village, tell you, Sir, it's lookin' line.

E.I a prouder lot of people 'twould be precious hard tew find.
Enderstand, I am not meanin' tliey'n^ a snol)l)y, stuck up kind.
You ffo over there t»!W me«'tln', they'll give you the liiu-st pew.
En the good, kind-hearted nu'mbers will an inteiest take in y<ju.
Land ! the change, it is »i wonder, kh.d of like to go u|i tlier«',
liike tew li.Uen ti'W the singin' en t<'W mingle in the prayer.
Ev< • one is made so welcome, sums ter ire like g(iin' In nu'.
El; " .\ i.hiiigs are so invitiu', from the b.iM'iuent. ter tin; dome.

WHEN IT TAKES A FIGHTIN' FELLER.

It's a very easy matter for ter gr^^sv an army ^un,

Ell ter gad about with soldiers a havin' heaps of fun,

When the pretty g:irl8 are smilin' and the band is playin' sweet,

It is easy as a soldier ter go pacin' on the street,

All dressed up in regimentals, hear the folks a cheerin' loud,

En ter sec the kerchief wavin' from your best girl in the crowd ;

Its alright when out paradin' fer ter brag en shout en blow,

Bat it takes a real game feller fer ter face a ftghtin' foe.

It's a very easy matter when there's peace o'er sea an' land, _
Fer ter put on regimentals en ter make a showin' grand,
Fer ter have your top boots shinin' en ter polish up your gun.
En ter talk about your heroes en ter boast of victories won ;
Fer ter have your horse a prancin' spur him into battle line.
En ter go to target practice get your shootin' right down tine.
It's a very easy matter ter get ready fer the foe,
But it takes a man of sand fer to get right out en go.

It's a very easy matter fer ter make a show en sight,

En ter have the folks bclievin' that your spoilin' fer a Hght j

Thet you are the greatest hero thet ever simt a gun,

En far ahead of Kitchener or mighty Wellington ;

Thet you'd fight like any Injun, thet you long(!d ter do some deed,

Thet would prove to all the people thet you came of Hghtln' breed.

It's a mighty easy matter tor put on en make a show,

But it cuts another figure when you're mustered out to go.

When your mother, she is weepin', en you havo ter leave your dad,
En you have to leave your Sunday girl for so neono else, Its bad ;
When you havo ter leave the homestead, wliero there's plenty en content,
For tor grub on government hard-tack in a common cotton tent,
Havo tor lay around the tronchos, havo toi nurso rheumatic pains.
Have tor tramp across the country through the dirty mud en ralna.
It's a mighty easy matter when at homo ter brag on blow,
But it takes a gritty feller fer tor face a Hghtln' foe.

" When the cannon's loud are booming; and the bullets fall like rain."

It's a mlphty casj' matter fer tor take a plcasiue trip,

En have your friends ter meet you as you saunttM" from tlie ship,

But to have a pacic of Hoers eu ter know they're fi^ifiitt'is all,

Kn ready there te. ^reet you with a whizzin' musket hall.

When the cannons loud are boomin' en the bullets fjill like rain,

The trip it loses flavor en you long fer home ajrHln.

When there aint no time ter visit, aint no time allowed fer show,

Tlion it takes a flg-htin' feller fer ter face the It^htin' foe.

It's a very nasy matter f«'r tor comment on the w»ir,
Bettin' 'round your cosy office here ten thousand miles nfar,
V.w ter criticise commanders if they elm nee ter lose the day ;
You could Iif1< a hundred Hrrt>rs tliat ten tliousand miles away ;
You could foil the schemes of Krujfor, of .^oulwMt, e!i the h.t ;
That's If you had 'em eorniired In your little garden i)lot.
Yes wo are the greatest fellers fer ter tliip our wings and crow ;
But it takes a Hghtin' feller fer ter face a Hghtin' foe.

It's a miffhty easy matter fer ter voice the praises snng-.

En ter kill Old Scliemin' Joubert en his army with hi? tonj;;iie

Lands, most anv common feller he can write a "^ jingo " rhyme,

But it takes a clever feller to chip in with a dime

Fer ter help out " Cannck Tommy, " for if he should lose his life.

It will come in mighty handy for his baby or his wife,

So we'll set the hat a goin' en ve'Il pass it to en fro

Fer ter help out figlitin' "Tommy " that has gone ter saee the foe.

It's a mighty easy matter fer ter shout "God Save the Queen, "

And about the present Government ter print things low and mean

'Tis a very easy matter fer ter pull the patriot string ;

But this goin' into battle is a different thing.

You can write your Jingo verses an' sing them o'er and o'er,

They won't civilize a Kaffir, nor scare a plucky Boer.

You may get your " Rule Britania," an' sing it till your hoarse.

But it won't scare Uncle Krnger nor annihilate his force.

It's a verj' easy matter fer ter stay at home en brag,

En a deep-dyed editor tor howl a))out the tiag ;

He may waste for his paper an' through its columns blovi%

But it takes u tightin' fellor fer ter face a fightiu' foe.

'some FOLKS THEY'RE ALUS COMPLAININ'

Some folks they are alus complainiir 'bout crops en fsirniin"' en sucli —

Ther's either too little of this or that, er }ilto<ifetIi(M' to innch,

They're nevei* contented er ha}>py, keep a-^rowlin' from ni<jfht until morn,

C(midii't dew anythinjf for ter suit 'em — I yruess it's the wjiy they wens how.

Never see any good in thar neighbors, fer 'em never a good word ter say.

They're alus fault-findin' en sayin' tliat things aint a-run the right way.

Now what is the use of complainin' and si his a-makin' a fuss,

The good Lord is runnin' tlie matter, what need of it botlierin' us?

Some folks they ajx^ alus complainin' in this world abaiit matters and tilings;
In the next, if they chance ter b^ angels, they'll Ixi mighty hard suited

with wings.
Tho' find fault with the beautiful sun-shine en frown if it chances ter rain,
Th(iy say there's far too much pleasure eu far too little of pain.
Altogether too much of the good, and not enough of the bad.
More shadow en shade than is needed, o'er woodland, en meadow en dell,
More grain on the hill-side agrowin' than they'll ever be able to sell.

Fome folks they are alus complainin' 'cause there's too many places ter go,

Too many i)laces thet's secret, too many places of show.

Too many poor in the country, too many rich with the cash,

Alus a-borrowin' trouble, alus predictin' a crash.

Too many people a-livin", far too many pcfople that die.

More caskets en colllins a-s<^llin' than people arv able, ter buy.

Too many young folks a-courtin", too many husbands and wives,

Too nuuiy buds en blossonn, too many bees in the hives.

Some folks they 'ire alus complainin' 'bout an over-])roduetion or stint.

Couldn't make rni contented en happy if you'd give em a government mint.

Tlu^re'd then be too many dollars, too nniny to borrow and i)eg,

T(»o ma^jy bees for the honey, too many Hies 'namd the keg,

There 'd be too many thiev«'s fer t«'r steal, too n.any loafers ter shirk,

.\n over-production of labor, too numy nn-n fer tne work.

Too many women ter i>lty and love, too many teachers in schools,

An over-production '-? ignorance en a wholi lot too many fools.

Xow vrlxHt IS the nse of complainin' en seoldin en makin' a fass.

If the good Lord is running the matter, what need it be bothering" as ?

In this world there's a bud and a blossom for every thistle en thorn,

En fer every darit cloud that arises there's afus a beam of light.

Though the night may be dark en gloomy, there's alus a morning bright.

And fer all the harsh sayin's and doin's there's as many as good you'll rtiuf .

Kn fer all the bad people a livin' there's many that's good en kind.

Thei'e's no use of ihis eomplainin' 'bout tlie world en its different ways,
There'll alus be nights dark en gloomy en always be bright summer days
There'll alus be pleasure en gladness,^ there'll alus be sorrow and eare.
Then why should we borrow of trouble^ each mortal rs sure oJ his share *>
Let us be of good fellow ship ever, en scatter kind words with a smile,
En this old world it will be better foi* us stayin' 'round it a while.
For the good Lord is runnin' the matter, what need of it botherin' us?
Wc never can change it by seoldin' er growiia' er maklu' a fuss.

The Divorce.

Thirty years ago September, harvest was at hijrh tide,
Hanner Anally consented fer ter be my loving bride.
She like all good lookin' wimen had her eyes on other men,
En fer fear that I might lose her, why I took her thar en tlien.
So we drove down to the parson's, didn't make no spread of course.
En he hitched us two up double fer the better er the worse ;
Hitched us up tew plow life's furrow, prayed fer blessin's from above.
Bid us bear each others burdens en tew cherish en tew love.

Now, I wasn't of the richest, I'd a rig en Sunday suit,
With a sixty acre farm en a little cash ter boot ;
Ner I wasn't very pretty, wasn't of the handsome kind,
But a more respected feller 'twould be mighty hard ter find.
My future it looked gilded, en my present it was fair.
En my morals they would average with any fellers there.
Talk about a merry farmer with his heart a-flanni with glee,
It was I when she decided fer ter harness up with me.

So we settled down together on thet sixty acre farm.

En the things around took to iier just as if she had a charm.

All the cattle follow'd her from the pasture land away.

En my team out in the stable, when they'd hear her voice would neigh.

Talk about life's happy mornin' with its sunshine en its Howers,

If there's such a thing fer mortals that are honeymoon was ours ;

En it lasted quite a while, sir, happiness from year tew year,

En a little stnnger came along thet happy home tew cheer.

Think I told you 'bout me workin' 'fi "e thet little stranger come.
Why, I hadn't worked at all, sir, then I fairly made things hum ;
Worked en saved up all my money, worked from morn till day grew dim.
En I lived all in the future thought of no one else but him.
Why thet cunnln' little urchin, beat the world how do did grow,
En it used ter tickle wife en I ter hear him coo en crow ;
But thet blessed little youngster didn't with us long abide,
For we made an idol of him en I guess thet's why he died.

Then things had a different seemin', wife began to mourn and fret,
En though years have past en gone, I believe she mourns him yet ;
En I Icind of lost my bearin's, though I tried ter do ray part,
But the world all seemed agin me en I didn't have no heart.
When things brightened up a little, en I could the better see,
The school teacher of the district wanted fer ter board with me.
Well, I thought that it would cheer us, so I bid the teacher come ;
Little thought that by so doin' I was ruinin' ray home.

So the teacher boarded with us full of manners en of grace ;
Soon there was a change in Hanner, I could see it in her face,
En it kind of built me up like when I saw he had a cheer
Fer that broken-hearted mother en the wife I loved so de ir.
Well I kmder took new heart, sir, when I saw in wife the change,
But it took me all my time ter keep my jealousy in range,
p]n things were gettin' cross-ways en one evenin', by-theby,
I thought I caught 'em courtin' a little on the sly.

Well, I could'nt curb my temper, so I raised a row of course ;
Then thing* went ter go backwards from the better ter tho worse.
Wife she acted cross and surly, she was distant like en cold.
En she never even kissed me, as she did in days of old
Things kept pullin' en a-haulin' nigh on ter a year I think,
En ter put the cap-sheaf on 'era, why I started iri ter drink.
Sir, it wasn't long I tell you 'fore the bailiff had a lock
On my little farm and dwelling, one day he sold off the stock.

Well, when I arose next mornin' I was feelin' ruther down,
En tew get some more dam-nation, why I started fer the town ;
As I went out through the kitchen, wife she started for to cry,
En she murmured something ter me en it sounded like good-by.
Course the teacher he had left us ; curse the day he ever came ;
Curse the very ground he walks on ; curse his art, and curse his name ;
There was only one thing saved him, that was, sir, my love fer her ;
But fer that I'd followed him en I'd shot him like a cur.

Well, I spent a merry day, sir, en when long dark night had come,
I, the once respected farmer, like a beast then staggered home ;
Thus I reached my home now rained, staggered through the kitchen door,
Never eaw thet house so gloomy as it was thet night before ;

No tea-kettle there a-singin', in the cook stove not a spark,
Nothing- there tew cheer a feller, everything was still en dark ;
I stood there en thought a minute, then I tried ter find a light,
Thought perhaps she'd gone a-visitin' tew her mother's fer the night.

When I got the light aburnin' then I started up the fire.

En ter see my way the better turned the lamp a little higher ;

Got my bottle of damnation from my bar-room scented coat,

Went ter set it on the table, when 1 spied a little note.

It was in my wife's hand-writin' en the words were rather few,

Sayin' : " John, you've gone tew ruin en I guess thet I'll go tew,

I will try to love another, true I have been made a dupe,

Still I love you, love you dearly ; you'll forgive me, John, I hope."

Can you realize my grief, sir, did you ever feel earth's stings,
Just as if a sword o^ steel was a-cuttin' your heart strings,
I lived longer in a minute than a man of thrice my years,
♦Vith my whiskey brain a-reelin' en my eyes a-streamin' tears ;

Now, I've told you how I loved her, how she was my heart's dclifrht,
Why, I never knew how I loved her till I read her note that night.
I was sober in an instant, in the fire the bottle flun^^,
Swore thet if I died with thirst it v/ould never touch my tongue.

j ;

Then I made another vow, sir, thoug-h 1 nursed this bitter pain,
Hut I vowed thet by my honor I would win her back again.
I forgave her all thet ni^ht, sir, why my heart was all aflame,
P^or in suramin' up the natter it was I thet was ter blame.
Fer I got ter be a miser with a g"eed fer gain en gold.
En I never even dreamt it, but 'twas me thet had got cold.
Why. it was her dear young nature ter have som'un here ter love,
Siie was just a-lovin' spirit only lent me from above.

Well I didn't sleep that night sir, to my creditoes did go,

En they everyone decided to give me another show ;

Then I went tew work again, sir, en I met the payments all,

En I nearly cleared the debt off, in a year from that e'r fall ;

But I couldn't be contented with my chattels and estates

En my lovin' wife a-grubin' fer her livin' in the States,

So I vowed I'd go en find her, though I feared she would decline.

But I ment ter court her over en invite her tew be mine.

So I started on my mission, goin' here en goin' there,

En I got a trace of her in Dakota state somewhere

Then I got a chilly letter from a lawyer, cold of course.

It informed tha^ my wife was a-suin' for divorce ;

So I started for that lawyer's thinkin' I would meet her there,

En I'd lay ray case before 'em in a manner fair en square ;

Course I knew he'd get my money, but I didn't care fer that

'Twas tew win my wife en loved one thet's what I was drivin' at.

Well I got tew that ar city, with its great big crowd en show,
En I wandered up the street, scarcely knowln' where ter go.
Ran across a towerin' buildin' filled with folks en lots of noise.
An outside a gang of loafers en a lot of noisy boys,
Asked 'em what was goin' on there, en thay said a court of law
Where the married people settle up their little points of jaw.
Then I kind of sauntered in, sir, hardly got inside the hall,
When a big blae-coated feller out my name did loudly call.

iffht,
•ht.

[Then I marched up to the front, ftr, jast like any soldier b>Id,

For the prize that I was after far more pro/Cious whs tlian fjfold :
JTIiere hefoi-e me stood ray loved one, ready there her plea to nuike,

lint site fell into my arnij, sir, and I thouffht her heart would UreaU,
! She was wrecked with arrlcf en sorrow, with distraction she was wild.

En she sobbed there on my bosom, just like any punished child.

Talk about your family unions when your folks come home ter stay.

They ain't in it with thet union held in that court hous<? that day.

Talk about the courts of justice bcin"" cold and lackin' cliccr.
Not an eye in thet whole buildin' but thet day let fail a tear.
3ay, the judge he cried a little, bid us bury by-gone strife.
Said it was his pleasin' duty to pronounce us man en wife.
Then we started for our home, sir, back to old Ontario,
En we've never had a jangle, though that's many years ago.
Sakes, we live just like tew love birds tew each other kind en true.
And I think thet are divorce court was the makin' of us two.

Well, it learned me many lessons en a few I'll mention now.

One is, look your field well over alus 'fore you start to plow ;

It may take you forty years fer to win esteem en piraise.

But a man can turn to brute in just half as many days.

Never drink ter drown your trouble, rum is bitter balm youMI find,

Gnecn eyed jealousy en gin they are alus of a kind.

If your guns are primed en loaded en your spoilin' fer a fight.

You may easy be defeated, better have a line of flight ;

If you want a taste of hades, want tew see its brimstone foam,

Just court jealousy a little and you'll have it right at home.

There, sir, are some of the lessons thet I have learned and got right d >wn

fine.
En I'm fall of many others en a Solomon in my line.

The RAG'MUFFfN's Prayer,

(a CHRISTMAS STORY)

Far II way in a beautiful city, where is splendor and wealth "ind estate,
Where is found the abode of the poor, and tlie pfilded liome of the great
Where the ceaseless cadence of commerce beats tioie to the trade-hammer's

strolie.
And the great tall factory chimneys are corstantly vomiting smoke-
Where the toilers slave at their benches for tlie life-saving wages they give,
Where the one great half of the people care not how the other half live,
Where the clang of the bell or the whistle shrieks out on the chill morning

air.
And awakens the slaves from dream-land back to a world of care.

Just back from the street, down an alley, where the poor and the wretched

abide,
Where misery goes to make merry and criminals run for to hide.
Where at midnight the concert is jolly, where the wretch and the outcast

entice
And smother the last spark of virtue In iniquity, curses and vice — '
Where the knaves divide up their plunder, and petty thieves skulk from

thd tuils,
Where riot stands ready to kindle as gamblers light over the spoils —
Surrounded by sin and the sinning, in u tumbled down tenement row,
With a brother and sister some older, lived poor Mttle Hag'muffln Joe.

Joe's parents were dead and were 8leei)ing far out in a Potter's field lot.

But the kindness and love of his mother little Joe had never forgot

When the spring it returned with its flowers, littleJoe would wan<ler away

To God's acre, out on the hillside, and sit by her grave through the day.

The poor folks that strolled from the city would feharo their scant morsel
with Joe,

And when night hovered over (Jod's acre he returned to the tumble-
down r>.'.v.

When winter's chill blast nipped the willows and flowers he loved for the
while,

lie pi'.yed with the lads in the alley, and brightened the place with his
smile.

His sister sewed 'round for a living, but lier wag-e was uncertain and low
And altliough surrounded by vices her lieart was as pure as the snow.
His brother was just a poor " sweater " that toiled for a wag-c low as sin
In the factories of trusts and combines where the slaves throw their life's

blood in.
The kind hearted folks of the alley, they loved and befriended |X)or Joe,
And had nick-named the little raj»'mulfin the Sunshine of the Tumble-down

Kow,
He would chide their misdoings with kindness, and outcasts and o'iniinaU

they
Would softly steal up the attic and list to the rag' muffin pray.

One night came the sweet sounds of pleading, they silently stole up th
stair.

Little Joe, kneeling down by the cot side, was lisping this innocent prayer:

"Old Santy, I thought I would ask you and, good Panty, please let me
know,

" When you come to this great big city, will you drive down to Tumble-
down Row,

" I ain't got no father nor mother to buy me no nice little sleigh,

" And, Santv, the toys that I play with are some that was thrown away.

" H you'll only drive down through the alley, let me look at your toys and
deer,

" i known it will make me so happy and I'll be a good boy next year.

" Littl* Joe, kneeling down by the cot>iiide, was liMping thia innocent pmyer."

" And, Santy, if you can afford it, bring: sister, so kind and so trne,

" A nice little liat with a fejitlier or a nice little jaclcet of blue.

*• And, dear Santy Claus, please remember my dear good brother, tht Jim,

'' If it ain't askin' too much, dear ^anty, bring- something along for mm.

" If you have any toys that's left over, or any that's broken and worn — •

" You know' Santy, I ain't parti'lar— a little shell drum or a horn,

*' A sled or a kite or a shinny, or maybe a nice little knife,

" I will 'pen my word, dear S«inty, be a good little boy all my life."

It was holiday time In the city and Christmas was drawing near.
The gladdest time of the season, the merriest time of the year.
In the great cathedral vestry, the Christmas carols were sung,
And down from the frescoed arches the ivy and holly were hung.
The memorial windows were lighted, the altar festooned with care
With bcautiiul lilies and roses, their fragrance filling the air.
The silvery chimes in the steeple rang out a harmonious strain
That floated away oer city and echoed again and again.

The streets were nil of a bustle, and from out the great thoroughfare
Could be heard the shrill pipe of the news-hoy as l)e whistled a popular afr.
The novelty stores were in splendor and high pretty toys they were j)ik'd,
And everything there jmt in order to please the heart of a child.
The shops they were all of a glitter, the windows they gaily were dressed,
And the cliildren to look at the treasures, their noses against them presst'd.
There were playthings of every description for the dear little girls and boys,
Skates, bats, base-balls, and shlnneys, and dolls that would make a noise.

Now the kind hearted folks of the alley, being touched with little JooV

prayer,
Had fixed up an r)Id junker's window and had an old Santy CUmn there,
liittlc toys were hung 'round in abundance to please and delight the child,
And picture books printed in color— little .loo with delight he was wild.
And when the old window was lighted with tissue and toys It looked gay.
They dressed up the junker as Santy and bid hlni give them away.
The jolly klnd-heart(>d old junker loved the children all In the row.
And A nice" little present he'd lx>uglit for the favorite, " yunshlney Joe."

The children were gathered nronnd Idm to rec<«lve a nice 1>ook or a toy
And little J(hi next to the window was laughing and crying for j(»y.
The junker, ditiguise<l as old Santy, was giving the things to ami fro,
And a little red sleigh and blue jacket he handed over to Joe.

He gave a loud cheer for old Santy, then ran off his sister to tell,

But he swooned as he ran through the alley and down in the pavement he

fell.
Loving hearts were soon to his rescue, but the dear little spirit had fled —
The jacket held close to his heart and his hand on the little red sled.

They lifted his form from the pavement and carried him in to the light
And a doctor that chanced to be passing said the little heart broke with

delight
It cast a sad gloom down the alley, and the good and the bad of the row.
Went up to that tumble-down attic and wept over poor little Joe.
They laid him away in God's acre where his dear kind mother was laid,
Where the flowers will bloom that he treasured, where time after time he

had played.
And they put up a nice little head-stone that told of the sad Christmas night
Of the sleigh and the little blue jacket and how little Joe died of delight.

The Puzzled Squire.

I have hoard that fools and childrtMi often question rather strange,
And as I ain't no youn^ foundlinj,'-, with tlie foolish 1 nuist rang^e.
Now, I ain't the brip-htest shilling that you'll find in fifty mile,
Never noised around partic'lar that I know a wondrous pile.
What I know I know I know it and can tell it precious quick,
Hut, for solving- knotty problems, think my head's a little thick.
There are many things transpiring my old nocMle cant see through
And if you'll just have patience I'll acquaint you with a few.

I would like some information on a point that puzzles me,

That is, why there's so much bondage in a land they claim is free.

What about the persecution of the Negroes as a race ?

Why, I thought that thing was settled and of slavery not a trace.

Lands ! I thought that dear " Old Glory " was the emblem of the free

Frceedom for the white-man, black-man, emblem of bought liberty.

They had better change " Old 'ilory, addinj? on another crest,

And about the thing most suited is the eagle's clamorous nest.

Can you tell why they pro preaching to the Chinese, book in hand,
And then tax him fifty dollars in this country should ho land.
Claim they want to civilize them ; very well, then let them come,
Take the cash to educate them and convert them nearer home.
I have often heard it stated that of eveiy dollar spent
]''or to civilize the heathen he receives aliout a cent.
Ninety-nine per cent for wages, travels, and for servant's fees
And to keep a lot of fellers lazing 'round about at oaso.

Tell me why the christian people take such Interest in the souls
Of the poor benighted heathen as to dhoot him full of holes
To inject a now religion tainted with deceit and fratid —
Hotter leave them to their im»gc, to their stone and wooden god.
They are happy in their worship of their gods of wood and stone,
If they only serve to comfort, they will prize them as our own,
Talk aliout an Idol worship In that so-called evil land,
Here are scores who worship Idols-- idols arc on every hand.

Sir, I've met some pious people, heard tliem shcut and sing and pray,
And tlicy'd boast of their relfgion in a most pretentious way.
They iiave told me they were fitted for the mansions in the sky,
Only waiting for the messajo-e and they'd gladly sny good-bye.
Then they'd start a new religion, stand right up and speak it bold,
Say they never knew the Saviour when they Avorshipped in the old
Do you call that human weakness or delusions of the mind,
Or is it right down deception of the bare-faced modern kind?

Please explain why christian nations, worshipping in God the same
Will rush into savage warfare, calling on His holy name.
Praying for each other's downfall, scoflrtng ar, each other's pain.
Pillaging and massacreing, seemingly for each other's gross or gain.
Innocents are made to suffer, for the guilty wound and bleed,
And a claimed enlightened people will approve the hellish deed.
Ask yourself this vital (juestion, is it possible that we
Are the ones need civilizing?— are we blind and cannot see?

I don't undertnnd why combines are allowed to form and st(>al

And the man that does the labor gets the small end of the (hull.

I can't understai.d why preachers preach of money day by day,

Leave a hard-up congregation for a call to higher j»ay.

Don't helieve they have considered 'bout " the lilies liokv they gr<»vv,"

(lUess that visrse was calculated for the preacher long ago.

Can you tell why n«en worth millions keep on grasping all in reach.

And the most of politicians never practice what they preuch?

These, sir, are some knotty problems my grey noddle can't detine,

Hut perhaps they're not Intt^uled to be in the eonimon line

Well, theni in the dally papers, you can see them any d'ly,

And there is po act of council why 1 shouldn't have my say.

I've a right to my opinion and my deep-dye<l pess'mist views,

Vvv a riglit to my ideas to express them If I cIiook'.

Aw for wouldbc civllizers under poor rtillgion's cloak

.\nd false persecuting christians laying on ihe galling yoke.

Or for many missionaries and preti'iiders all to boot,

Thuy had butter leuvu their orders for a thick ashistos salt.

WHEN LUCINDA LED THE SINGIN'

'Way down tliar at " Hemlock Corners" where we used ter have such fun»

All agoin' 'round to huskin's when the harvest it was done,

Eatin' sugar-coated doughnuts, eatin' big, fat punkin pie,

En a-courtin' of our sweethearts, stealin' kisses on the sly ;

Eatin' of ripe water-melons en sweet apples by the peck.

With a drinkin' apple cider we'd be full up to the neck ;

Jest ere we would be home-goin', all woald join the old-time glee,

With Lucinda's voice a leadin', somehow it just suited me.

Course, I ain't no judge of singin' when -you get it right down fine.
That 'ere so-called classic music is nc^t in my groove or line,
But I used ter like ter listen tew 'em quaint old meter rhymes,
Used ter try myself ter sing 'em, but I'd break down many times.
But we had an old-time glee club that could sing like mockin' birds.
Never used ter chaw their language, you could understand the words ;
En about the sweetest of them, singin' in thet rustic glee.
Was my old sweetheart, Lucinda — somehow, she just suited me.

There was Josli en Hanner Baker en the Smith girls sisters five,
With their brother, Jim, ter caper jest to keep the fun alive ;
There was Willie Burk en Mary, modest, bashful litttle miss,
She'd turn forty-'leven colors if the bitys should steal a kiss.
There was Joe en Millie Baxter, cross-eyed Tim en Lizy Brown,
All the boys used ter he callin' her the prettiest girl in town.
Jest thet way I couldn't see it, though allowin' han'some she,
But my old sweetheart, Lucinda, kinder somehow suited me.

There were girls a heap more stylish as pertainin' to their dross,
But she had a winnin' manner en was lovin' none the less.
En her voice it was as plaintive as the roohdow lark's in spring.
Why I seemed ter love her better every time I heard her sing.
Sakcs, her singin' at revivals at the Corner's school house there
Helped as mach ter save the sinners as the preachin' and the prayer.
She would soften tno old hard-shells with her voice so sweet en free.
Jest ter hoar her sing them meters left a tender spot in me.

When old winter cast her mantle ter the merry sleigh-bells sound,

We would get up sleigh in' parties en go visitin' around.

Used ter have. such fun together, tippin' over in the snow,

All our sweethearts seemed to like it— we could help them out, you know,

Didn't seem ter mind the weather in the youthful days of old,

Winter didn't seem so dreary nor the wind so very cold.

Oft there steals a sadnesso'er me, for those days I srrieve en pine -

Days I spent among the heather with that old sweetheart of mine.

No, I ain't no judgt of music when they get it 'way done fine,
'Em 'ere trills and fiddle fuddles ain't exactly in my line ;
But 'em old-time glees en meters that we sung in days gone by
Kinder brings ter me fond mem'ries en a tear starts to my eye,
Takes me back to the old homestead, tew the old days I loved so,
Pictures to me old time faces of the Iiappy long ago.
Oft 1 think. I hear them singing, merry in the old-time glee,
With Lucinda's voice a lead in '—somehow, it just suited me.

The Piano Agent.

Now I told you liont my rlealin'' with the fife insurance man.

All about his silver-plated, highly-polished little pfan ;;

Sakes! I thoujfht I mi as the sharpest individual in town

That 'twould take a real smart feller fer ter eook me very browi)"

Thoug-ht T had my frontier guarded ail my trenches emrved en crooked.

But i»v little foi't of music I'll admit I overlooked.

I was dodgin*^ 'rountt my trenches, takin^ here en there a shot
At them schemin*^ agent fellers fer I know the hull dumb lot,
And they knew me fair to middlin' for n>e didn't have much use.
Fer as far as they could see me they would hoist their flag of truce ;:
Now en then a wiley stranger down around my farm would stray,.
But when I got things to workin', why he didn't care to stay ;'
When my guardhouse got to bleachin' en the wordy war got thick.
He would then get in a hurry and retreat with double quick.

** Loved music same as me."

Hut I had a little weakness in ivg-ard to mekidies,

And most any kind of musk it would touch my syinpfithtes',

To my only dau^ht/er M«ry, finer g-iil you never see.

She's good lookintr like lier inotlKM- and loved niuskj same «s nie ',

Slua was prcssin' fier an or^an cr pi^no i^tiier hard,

And between her en tier mother, why they threw mo off .,iv jfuard;

So I went to town one evening", just ter see what I c»iuM do.

Sir, I'll bet two hundred agents called m just a w<x;k or two.

TVhy, they swarmed just like swamp skoefiers en tlT«*ii- tongues xvere whet

en sharp,
Introduced all kinds of music from a brass di'um to a hai^p.
Had hU kinds of music boxes representin' scores of firms,
And they told the slickest stories 'bout their e4*sy })ayin' terms ;
Some came tlKire in fancy wajr^ons, some on bikes en some in f^ijrs.
And they played all kinds of music, hymns and waltzes, reels and jij>s,
Then they sung: a^l kinds of dities, seemed they never would j;et through,
They all had a gift of music and they gave us all they knew.

There was organs en pianers in the parlor and the hall,
And a ballad singin' agent representin' each en all ;
They were flirtin' with my daughter and her mother good en stout,
And wereeatin' of my victuals, why I thought they'd eat me out;
Why, the thing was gettin' desperate for the house was overrun,
And the neighbors they were laughin' and a-heli)in' on the fun,
So I gently told my wimmen they had better make their pick,
Then I'd rid the rural district of the varmiii mighty quick.

Well, they wasn't long in choosin' one of which the agent said
For the only " Paddywhiskers "it was moddlcd and was made ;
I ain't certin' 'bout the name sir, er I get thiugs mixed you see,
If it wasn't " Paddywhiskers," why it sounded so to me ;
Said it was endorsed by Toffey and great prime donnas they
Also used that make planer their accompaniments to play ;
Said he sold one to the Premier, put one in at Ridoau Hall,
Claimed they'd have no other music when they had their fancy ball.

We decided he could leave it just a week er tew on trial,
And his gilden recommcndins we would put em all on Hie
Then we held a little parley a? to how and when we'd pay,
And then this genius of deception he politely went away.

^ *

Scarcely was he out of bearin' when another feller came.
Went ter praisin' his pianer in a manner much the same ;
Made such fun of our selection, said of it we'd made a fizz.
And thet he could easy proTe it by a lady friend of bis.

So he introduced a damsel en she started in to play.
And I see thet their pianer sounded better rigbt away ;
Guess it was the way she played it as I afterwards did learn.
She was paid a large commission by the musical concern ;
But she got in my good graces, fer she had a winnin' way,
Took to Mary like a mother, said she'd teach her how ter play.
Said she'd come and make a visit, give her music lessons free,
And if I had no objection make a player out of me.

Why, she held out such inducements thet were far before the rest.
And had proved thet their pianer was superior and the best.
That is in r^ard to sounin' tho' it had no finer case,
So we moved the first selected and we put theirs in its place.
As I made a little payment, for I had a little money by.
Thought I caught the girl a winkin' kinder " with the other eye,"
And the agent smiled so sweetly as he pocketed the dough.
Lands I the girl she up en kissed me just as if I was her beau.

Well, they left us rather cheery, and we just got settled down,

When there came a little message from a lawyer in the town ;

It was worded rather pointed in a cool commandfn' style,

Askin' pay fer thet pianer thet the feller left on trial ;

Slated I had not reported, and as thirty days had flown,

I had best send in my papers or come in and ante down ;

So I went to see my lawyer, just ter find out what ter do.

En he said " I guess old feller, 'em ere sharks have rattled you "

Course he said I might out-wind 'em, but t'would cost me very sore,
'Bout as much.as the pianer an perhaps a little more ;
Said I might be *' vindicated," but advised me as a friend,
For tew keep out of the law courts, for you never know their end j
Said he'd do his best ter settle up the thing with my consent,
Which he did for twenty dollars, never chargin' me a cent.
Now, they say hard things of lawyers, givln' 'em an awful name,
While admitting tbey are scattered, some are honest just the same.

1 believe when Father Gabriel trumpets for the holy dead,

Thee the lawyer will be standin' somewhere 'round about the head ;

Course I know there skinners 'niongf 'em just like preachin' ^ood en bad,

But I've found good friends amongf 'era, 'bout the best I ever had.

As for 'em are agent fellers, there ain't no phice bad enough,

And I only hope there's brimstone or some oiher hotter stuff ;

Hope thct ril be overseer of them thievin' agent ghouls,

Kn I'll fret some imp a-rakin' over them the hottest coals.

Now, I've often heard it stated that in all things great and small.

There's a woman implicated at the bottom of it all ;

They're the source of all our blessings, may ii. erring cause us woe,

But they do more right than wronging and they're loving tliafe I know.

I believe in that are doctrin', with it. Sir, I quite agree,

Tlio' my wimmen caused the trouble they are ever deai'to mo ;

Why, I wouldn't be a hintin' ner a scoldin' 'bout thet trade.

Wouldn't wound ner hurt their feelin's for all the piancrs made.

r.«

'>♦>

Black Sheep Jim

As I've travelled oni life's journey I have had my downs and ups,
I have lasted of its pleasures, drunk of trouble's deepest cups.
Had a fair to iniddlin' fortune, sometimes didn't have a cent,
Owned a hoiue and shared it's comforts, then a^ain I had to rent.
I have been a steady worker, stickin' to it ni^ht and morn,
Yes, in fact, I've been a worker since the day that I was born.
Hut I ve had a lovin' helper in ray ^ood and faithful wife,
She has been jiy constant blessinjjf and the sunshine of my life.
When the murky clouds would gather, every ray of hope erase,
She would brijrhten the surroundings by her kind and loving face.

I don't advertise ray troubles as you would a district fair,
Fer I don't think folks would thank rae, don't believe they'd even care.
Hut I have a little story 'bout our Jim, and he's our boy,
Once he was our darkest trouble, now he is our brightest joy.
We were blest by three dear children, and 'twas natural that we
(lOt ter thinking they the smartest this old world did ever see.
Jenny went ter Ladies' College, Jack he went tew Grammar School,
Jim lie said he guessed he'd " kinder stay at hum' an* be the fool."

We worked hard to bring 'em up, sir, en tew keep for 'em a home.

Thinking they would be a comfort maybe in the years to come.

Jenny learned to play the organ, Jack he learned to parse and write,

Jim he learned the curse of lessons, learned to drink then brawl and tight.

Hut it wasn't Jim a flghtin' it was rum in every brawl,

For when he was Jim and sober he was kind and good to all.

Well, he got so awful shiftless that he wouldn't do a chore,

And one night \/hile in my temper why I turned him out of door.

Hut his mother she stuck to lum said she wouldn't from him part.

'Till Hhe found the combination to unlock his wayward heart.

If ther is a balm for mortals, sweet and pure as from above,

You will find it in the sweetness of a patient mother's love.

When her ey-es were blind through weeping and her heart with shame was

80IXS,

Sir, she seemed to love him better than she ever did before.

She would pray for him so earnest, nurse him with the greatest care,

Hout the only hope I harbored was thur, woninn s CHrnest i)r«yer.
Hut there came a wave of sorrow and it froze my ye|-y soul,
For the sheriff came one morning tellin' tis onr Jim liad stole.
Leastways so it was suspected someone had robbed fi^riner Grey,
And our Jim with sartin colleagues hurriedly hud run away.

Did you ever taste of trouble drinks its drejrs r>f bitter gall,

Why the burden 'twould have been lig-liter had I lost the children all.

VVife'and I disgraced, dishonqred, wlun we hoped for joy and |)ride,

Sir, I almost wished her buried and I sleeping by her side.

V.vswy prespect dulh'd arid blighted eveiy feeling numb and dead,

.Ml tiu; woild it seemed against us everv spark of hope had (1<'d.

Wif(^ she sobbed like any infatif, thought her poor heart would break,

Tried my very best to comfort and cheer up for her sake.

She would not believe the story tho' it caused her bitter grief,

Said she knew her Jim was reckless but he never was a thief.

" And he walked right in aqd stood there holding out his hand to nu>."

When a story once gets goin' course it never loses ground,

En' in just a little season it had travelled miles around.

All the neighbors they grew distant didn't sympathize ner cheer,

En' they'd meet the other children with a mocking kind of sneer.

Jack en Jenny proud of spirit didn't want around to stay,

So I mortgaged the old humstead got 'em money to go 'way.

Went away to Manitoba, soon had troubles of their own.

Left the load of debt and sorrow here to wife and I alone.

Never heard a word from Jim, sir, through the many years which fled.

He almost Ixicame forgotten, I had give him up for dead.

Heard he was in Colorado, heard some one had seen him there,

Tried my very best to find him but I couldn't anywhere.

Wife and I toiled on together in a drear haU-hearted way,
With that mortgage gnawing at us growing poorer every day.
Made us scratch to pay the interest for it wasn't very small.
By and by we failed completely had to lose our precious all
Mr. Bailiff came one morning and nailed up his bill of sale,
And he sorter kinder hinted wife and I should be in jail.
Said our family had a record, spose ho hinted at our Jim,
Then I told him were I younger I would mop tlie earth with him.
Said I'd better mop the debt off then I might commence to blow,
If I didn't in a fortnight from the place I'd surely go.

Tlien he
Saying th^
Did he stej
Why the

Jim got v\i
And the h\
They're cc
Then we'll
This, sir, i|
Once he al
I don't go
Ner I ain'l
I don't go
But there

Well the night before the sale, sir, my wife en' I were feelin' sore,

Settin' there in sober silence when a rap cama at the door.

Wife she went and drew it open, saw her o'er her glasses stare,

When a stranger asked politely If John Bolllngbrook lived there.

Mother said I was the person which perhaps he wished to sec,

And he walked right in and stood there holding out his hand to mo.

Th tght he looked kinder rather familiar, but the light was rather dii. ,

Father, said ho kind of softly, don't you know your Black Sheep Jim.

Wife she fell upon his bosom, laughing, weeping In her joy.

Crying, that hor prayers were answered, Heaven had returned her lM)y.

Tttlk about that blbln union when they killed the fatfed calf.
Why they didn't start to welcome, wasn^t glad as wo by half.
Course wa didn't have much victuals ner no jeahms son with jeers,
But wo gave to him a banquet In the form of joyous tears.
[Soon he handed me a paper which I knew .nt very sight,
It was that are cursed mortg^ige, he Jiad paid It off that night.

Tlicn he gave lue other papers scarcely before I could him thank,

Saying they secuf'ed my credit for five thousand in the bank.

Did he steal I heard you ask me, bless you never stole a dime,

Why the chap that done the thieving he was caught and done his time.

Jim got rich in Colorado working in a silver mine.

And the boys that went off with him they are there and doin' fine.

They're comin' home next summer, fer tew see the folks onci^. more.

Then we'll hold a grand reception down at Simpson's grocery store.

This, sir, is my snnple story 'bout our boy, that Black Sheep Jim,

Once he all but had my curses, now I almost worship him.

I don't go much on religion nor prayer meetio's an' that sort,

Ner I ain't one of 'em mortals that are given to exhort.

I don't go much on the preachers, fer their sermons never eare,

liut there surely is a ransom for a christian woman's prayer.

THE TRIP OF THE SUNSET LIMITED.

(a railroad story.)

Awfty np the lino in the monntains where the road is winding- and wild
Jim Riley, the driver, was stationed, there he lived with \m wife and child;
He came here among- us a strang-erand he hired on the "overland " roatc,
And he was a capital driver, as good as was ever turned out.
Riley's wife was a railroader's daughter, a millionaire's daughter they said.
But she fell mad in love with the driver and they ran away and got wed ;
They sient Riley up in the mountains to run on the rocky divide.
He g-ot a permit from the company to allow on the engine bis V)ride.

'Twas the end of a west division where an engine was held in reserve,
And Jim was in charge and her driver, he knew (*v(>ry trestle and curve ;
Jim's wife, it was said, was his eqnal ; she could throttle, reverse and could

brake.
And many times Jim was heard boasting that far bettta* time she could

make.
She could force up the grade to the summit and down with the greatt^t

control
And the mogid seemed at her bidding with all of its ponderous sotil,
8he knew it from headlight to tender, she had gamboled tht^ honeymoon

tln're,
Jim called her the master mechanic when making- a needed repair.

'Twas a eoM dreary night in I^'ceuiIxM", a snowstorm was thiekening fast;
The storm-breeding, snow-covered mountains were tu'eathing their Ititterct

blast ;
The " Limited " train on its journey with its burden of touriHts and freigli*
l'ull<>d into that little way station ami nearly an hour sIm' was late;
Willi h( r engine, a light one disabh>d, her drivt-r eourplainod of his ills,
At best neither he nor his iMigiiu^ could eope with the storm or the liilh,
The conductor awakened Jim's fireman, bid him put the " old mogul i"

right,"
For said ho "she'ji in for a saunttir up over the mountain to-night."

He bade
liut whei
lie was V

near
S^)oke up
The con

goin
Said all l

itsb
Jim lifte(
Said he,
Just tak(
En' 'em I

The cond
Said he.
The won
" Don't r
Just Irty
thi-o
And |)er
•TJlgo,'
liut not i

She ivtlr
And app
With a ii
She said,
There sh
WlH^n th
nigl
He was I
Kor fear

The moj
Aw'iitinj
Hit air
The firei

Tie bade him hitch on and make ready " Til go and get Riley," he said,
lint when ho arrived at the cottage poor Jim Wouldn't hold up his liead ;
lie was weak<}ned and ill with a fever and his wife by the bed standing

near
Spoke up to the startled man saying it's all off to-night Jake I fear.
The conductor made known his position, he'd some magnates on board

going west.
Said all things against him were turning when his train should be running

its best ;
Jim lifted his head from the pillow and pomting the man to his wife
Said he, " Jerry she'll take you ovei' and give you the run of your life ;
Just take hor along with you Jerry and don't tell anyone, see,
En' 'em big bugs what's a tourin' they never will know but W» me."

The conductor 8t<'!pped up in amazement like A man coming out of a trance,
Said lie, " If the Misnis will go Jim, I'm hanged if I don't take the chance."
Tlie woman cried out all a tremble, •' Oh I couldn't leave baby and Jim."
*' Don't never mind me nor the baby," said Riley, " I'll take care uf him.
Just lay him right here by my pillow he'll sleep this long dreary night

through,
And |)erhap8 the station-house woman will come over and care for us too."
*' I'll go," cried the brave little woman, " I'll go with the help from Above,
liut not for the railway magnates, but I'll go for the ones that I love."

She ivtlrt^d to the low cottage ehnmber to ttx her disguise up as Jim
And ap|KMix!d in almost an instant, and lm»king exactly like him ;
With a good-night kiss for her loved ones and a faitiwell again and again
She said, " I'm ready for duty," and they hurri^nl away to the train.
There she climbed up Into the cabin and took Riley's place at the right,
\VIh!Ii tile fireman 8|M<ke out roughly, saying, " Jim, it's a danged rough

night."
He was piling in coal to the furnace bo she turned her face from the glow
For fear tlu^ tireman might notice and {M'rhaps lose heart and not go.

The mogul 9e«'med fretful and nervous ns a (Spirited stetMl (t'er the race
Awaiting the reins of the rider to gallop away In the chaw.
Ih-r air pump was throbbing and sighing, the safety valve loudly did blow,
The fireman calUid out from his window, " All right, Jim, old bov, let her

go."
With her slender hand grasping the throttle, quite gently she let the steam

And blew a loud blast from the whistle that Riley might know she had

gone.
The engine took steam very quickly, scorning quicker than ever before,
Her putfting grew faster and, faster and became a continual roar.

With Jim at her side on the engine she was as free as a bird on the winjj:'
But to guide her alone through the mountains 'twas a very different thinj,'^;
She knew it was no time for flinching and banished each fancy and dream
And turned the reverse in her favor and gave her a little more steam.
She swept round a curve like a cyclone and bounded from mile posts to

posts
And the snow from her pilot flew backwards and vanished like white gar-
ment ghosts,
On on up the grade to the summit, 'twas a weary and dangci'ous climb.
There at last and the flreman spoke, saying, " Jim, you've gained ten
minutes of time."

*' And the niiow from her pilot flew backwnrdN ami v«iiiHh«U like whiio gurnuMit ghoHtt.

'Ill

The prrade being now in her favor she dashed from the summit away,
And down the grade of the mountain as an eagle swoops on its prey,
The fireman alan^ed at the silence and being unnerved at the pace
Stepped timidly uj. o the boiler and stood staring into her face.
Then staggering back to the tender, he cried : " By the fates that are rife,
That's not Jim Riley a driving, but his loving and true little wife."
Then quickly she told him the story and about how she happened to c( nie;
How Jim was sick with the fever with her dear little treasure at home,

Did ever mankind honor woman ; did ever man cherish his bride ;
The fireman transformed to a hero would lay down his \\:v. by her fide ;
lie grasped up the heavy steel raker and sprung at the gicat fuinace door
And worked the rest of that journey as man never worked before.
Down, down the descent they were fleeing with the speed of a hunted deer,
And the misty lights in the valley made known that the cros-sing was

near ;
She had orders to make the crossing of the " Overland " going Kast ;
She was nervous just for the moment and the heart throbbed loud in her

breast.

If the switch should be turned to the siding, and she would piunge into tin*

train,
And a thousand other fancies went flashing across her brain ;
She anxiously watched for the signal ; through the storm eanglit a gbmce

of Its gleam.
Then she murmured a prayer for her loved ones and jnit on a full head

of steam.
She dashed by the semaphore signal and on by the Ktaiion-hoii!>e guaid :
And rolling over the switches she swept lik*' tli(^ wind through il,e mimI ;
Old railroaders back at the station shook their heads at the IJniittd's

flight,
.\nd sal<l there goc^s reckless Jim RiUw and he's <lriving a bit t(» night.

I.Ike a phantom she winged through the valley abreast of the (Irivinggalc,
An<l the fireman swore that thc^ angels were ludding her ilowii to tlie niil :
lie said " they were on the ten<ler and as true as the great St. .lolm,
'I'hey were in the cab by the woman and alu-ad tlu'y were beekoiiitig mt.'
Me opened the door of the furnace and held his watch down to iju- ginie.
And he cried by the powers that's above us, we're on time with a uiiiiute

to span? ;
Just twenty miles more of the journey, just tw«'nty ndh-s nior<' of a run.
Ju»t a ivw weary moments of anguish and the brave wonianV work would

Ih* done.

fi4

Now back in the coaches the tourists were all of the very best cheer,
And had made up a round sum of money to present to the brave enjfineer,
And one of the millionaire magnates spoke, sayinj^: " Gents, if I can,
I'd like to present the token and say a few words to the man."
Then out spoke the happy conductor, sayinj^: " (ientlemen, what do you

think ;
But I've jfot the best railroad story that was ever printed with ink."
The one you so much have been praising-, and to whom the token will fall.
He isn't our regular driver, but a brave little woman that's all ;
Our driver is ill with a fever ; his wife she is there at his post ;
She has safely guided us over and made up tlic time which was lost.'

They exclaimed as if one voice together, Avith a startled look on each face:
What! only a woman that's driving, a woman running that pace;
The men staggerr'. back in their cushions, the v/omen were sobbing aloud,
In the car there wasn't a whisper— a «pell had come over the crowd.
bYom the engine there came a shrill whistle, which echoed away on the

wind.
And the train thundered into the station, she was not a minute beliind ;
The Mogul she looked like a snow-bird, to behold her a beautiful sight —
The snowbanks had stove in her headlight -she showed manv scars of the

CI v

fight.

The passengers rushed to the engine from every part of tlu^ train.

Hut the brave little wonian had fainted— her strength had give to the

strain.
They carried her into ti ^ station and summoned nu'dieal aid ;
There was many a sad tear falling and niany kind words there wen* sai<l.
Near by stocd one of the magnates— he Hew to her s'ulo like a dart.
An<l grasping thf form of the woman, hr held it close to his hcait ;
His f;u>(> wjis a Hush of excitement — it scenu-d as if the man had gone wild.
"(Jreat Heavens," li«^ cried, "its my Mary, my darling, my long lost child."

He bent ovei" the form now so lifeless, and bathed the pah; faci' with his

tears;
Long ago he'd forgiven hei* marringe and to find her had hunted for years;
She began to show signs of n'viving and opened her eves with affright, ;
''>li. there was joyous reunion in that railway station that night.
Ni \t day she went iiat'k to her loved oiu's, to tUo. little frame cott'ige afar:
Ibit not in the cab of an engine -she rode in a grand spei-ial ear :
The nilllifinnire magnate went with her, he was going u> j,'et drivt'r .lim
And tak(^ him again to his railroad and make an oHieial of him.

This, sir, is my railroad story, and a thrilling one, too, for your life ;
Should you doubt it, or think I am lyings, just write and ask Jim and his

uife.
They're living: down east in a palace, and the fireman, well, lie's with them

yet.
And also the old battered mog-ul, lest they become proud and forjfet.
Her steel is as brig:ht as a sabre, but the scars of that nigfht still remain —
Her headliffht is battered and broken, her pilot is twisted in twain ;
Here's success to the knights of the engine, may their guide be that from

Above,
The best of good cheer for their babies and regards for the women they

love.
As they're nearing the end of life's journey, and watch for the great signal

light,
May it not be colored nor cloudy, but burning brilliant and white.

GRAHAM GREEN'S EXPERIENCE.

Tliroci years ag^o to-day, wife, we moved up to the town —

ThrcB years aflfo we, well-to-do, to-diy are broken down.

I hustled 'round this morninjf ^ettinof straightened up on time,

Was waitlnj'' for an early customer to CHtcli an early dime,

When in walked a portly fellow, ragufed out fine as ever seen,

Handin<j me a letter, says he, " I believe your'e Mr. Green."

Then he straightway dropped the curtains on the windows and the door

And acted like a fellow that was s^oing to run the store;

And when I commenced to sputter, to parley and to jaw,

He s lid he was appointed to put in force the law.

And he said I " wasn't in it," then he quickly locked the door,

But I reckoned I was in it for a thousand three or four.

" You'r*! not the the only one," says he, " that dishonestly have failed."

And kind of hinted like that perhaps he'd have me jailed.

It seems to me it's rough enough for one in years to fail,
Then to have a set of roughs threaten you with jail.
'Tis a mighty lucky tlnng, wife, I left the farm with you.
If I hadn't I suppose they'd of gobbled that up too.
Hut I think I understand why my business wasn't good,
I did not edvertise it as the Editor said I should.
He said that every merchant doing business in the place
Paid toward his paper and in it had a space.
Then I got upon my dignitv and was a little mad
And told him that I didn't want his paper nor his ad.,
.\nd also that I knew enough to run a village store
And with that he needn't bother his noddle any more.

So I sold Tom, Dick and Harry that came along the way,

Expecting they were honest and, of course, I'd get my pay ;

And I never thought that farmers as a lot were bad at heart,

Hut I've learned you have have to watch them or of you they'll get a start.

When I sold to them my store goods, which I guarantee were good.

They would trade me frowy butter and draw me dozy wood.

As a rule those wholesale fellows don't deal in farmers' traBh,

They have you you sign a paper which means a case of cash.

And I guess the clerks I hired had the business fairly well,

For I think thev shared the profits though, of course, I couldi S
So when thev got through dipping in the saucepan, don't you see,
Phere was mighty little pudding left for you and me.
And though I haven't got cash at present, it appears,
I've enough of bought experience to last throughout my years.
So wp'll move back to the old farm and there we will abide,
For if we stay amongst these sharks I fear t'aey'll want our hide.
Yes we'll move back on the eld farm, 'twill be more in our line,
And soon there'll come a failure, and we will both assign.

Simon's Decision

I'm tiivd of the hurry en' worry, of the noise eii' t.lie smoke en' the din ;
It pains me to see so mueli sorrow, it {grieves me to see so much sin ;
I'm tind of the joltin}? en' jarring, en' the clatter of lioofs on tlie street;
I'm tired of tiie ramming and jannnmg, en' roasted alive with tlie heat ;
I'm tired of 'em Jmnpin'-jacl« trolleys, with their saw-filinfif screechin' 'en

dirt ;
Good lands, they'll run over a feller en' not even ask if he's hurt.
I'm tired of a running en' dodg-ing en' popping at this thing en' that —
En' my knees have got the rheumatics from climbing up stairs to a flat ;
I'm tired of this struggle for money, of the hustle and bustle of greed.
Why the people down here are so crunmiy they won't buy half what they

need.

I'm sick of the planning and scheming, this strife for a dollar or two.
En' should you get any together you would need a detective with you.
I'm tired of this watching 'em schemei's en' thinking each mortal a shark,
En' barring the doors en' win lows the moment it gets a bit dark.
Why, the folks are afraid of their shadow; don't blame 'em for makin' a

fuss,
F'er a lot of 'em air crooked fellers don't value the life of a cuss ;
It grieves me to see little children a slavin' from daylight till dark.
Whose parent? are lazy and worthless, en' a lounging around in the park ;
I'd like to be boss of 'em fellers that say they're tew sicklv ter work ;
Say, wouldn't I make 'em walk turkey ; I'd learn 'em to "sojer" eu shirk.

T'other night I strolled up through the city, a saunterin' and ruther

slow.
When a youngster called out from an alley : all right, chummy boy, let it

pro;
Sotnething struck me right fair on my shoulder en' knocke<l me clear off

from my feet,
Fin' when I got collected together they were nearly a block up the street ;
The bomb that they threw was a cabbage, en no snuill one at that I declare ;
When it struck on my person it busted, en' whew ! but it scented the air !
Then they hollered out "Simon, oh Simon, just go away back en' sit down."
I've concluded I'm more calculated to live in the country than town.

The g-uiddy jfirls cjill mc Ji "Gussie," en' say that ''I'm big* for my JQans;
That my "cocoanut it has }?on(i bug-g-y," whatever that tarnal thing means;
Tliey say I'm tew green for preserving-, that they'll let me hang on en'

mature,
Kii' pluck me sometime when I'm riper en' ranlc with the real Simon pure.
The kids say my tijie cut is leakin'. thet my celery top should be sheared ;
Tliet I'd make a capital statue, if I'd only sandpaper njy beard ;
So I guess thet I'd better be g-oin' before they're a cookin' me brown.
Kir I'm thinkin' thet I am intended far more for the country than town.

So I guess thet I'll pack up my satchel en' go back to the country en'
farm —

Hiick tluM'e to the old fashioned village, where summer is lending her charm,

Where the sweet-scented lilacs are budding, where the cowslips and pond
lilies grow,

And the apples and plum trees are ladened with blossoms as white as the
snow,

Wher.T the white clover blooms in the meadows, and the window vines
s|)arkle with dew ;

Where the a<l(Uir-tongue nods in the woodland, and violets of beautiful hue;

Where the farm cattle graze on the hillside; wheie the crickets and Katy-
did's sing.

And the water-fowl bathes in the crystal that tunefully flows from the
spring ;

Where nature has set up her easel and deft with her sunshine !)rush,

Has colored the slumbering landscape with yellow, purple and i)lush.

I don't s'pose many will miss me from the city of glitter and glare,
TMlM't likely they'll wear any mour>iiiig- 1 don't s'pose any will ci.re ;
Its not likely any will bother or ask wliy I hurrii^d away,
Or tear any rents in my fullcloth in order to get me to stay ;
I guess they can run tUo. big city without a big gossoon like me
Well, I'm perfectly willin' to let them, then on that cpiestioii we will agree,
i'or ev(!ry o(l<l dollai' you gobble, you take about five of abuse,
So 111 pack "jp my old ('arix't satchel, shake the city dust off from my f«'et,
Km' go back wluu'e the people are friendly and the air is refreshing and
swcei.

I know thet they'll give nn; a welcdUie ; didn't want me to raniltle en

stray,
V'U the children en' mother were weeping the morning I started away,
TIk re is one will be joyous en haiijty when she knows I'm a coming back

there —

That's my old-fashioned sweetheart, Lucindi^ ; I'm sure she is one thet will

Fer her letters are lovin' en tender, though no gems of a grt^at pi-nnuui's

They're alus so sweet en confiden' en worded en penned from her hiart.
I know she's awaitin' my comin' back there to the vilhi<re oneci nnmt :
There together we'll stroll through the wlldwood, the mondows .-ind tivUh,

as ot yore.
Yes, I'm goin' back there to the homestead : you can stay lien; <^n luistu?

and fret ;
You're welcome to all the dollars thet from 'em city fellers you get ;
I'm goin' back there to the village; you can stay here en worry «n frown:
But fer me I would ruther be livin' out there in the conntry tlnui town.

The Canuck.

Let me sing you of a trooper in a little gingle

song,
He's a mixture as to breeding and about ten

thousand strong,
Occupies of earth a corner termed the "Ladj-

of the snow,"
Doesn't spend his time in boasting, never h(;ar

him brag nor blow ;
He's a handy little fellow andof the aggressive

kind,
And a chap more patriotic 'twould be verv

hard to find ;
I will introduce you to him, he is famous for

his pluck.
He's a worthy little patriot and thev call him

the " Canuck."

Hasn't got no powerfai navy, but you bet he's got the grit.
And for any little squabble you will find him always tit;
He can stand the Army hardships and he understands a gun.
And to duck and dddge a bullet seems to be his recreation fun.
It's been proven he's no kicker in regards to grub and fare,
And he'll fight with odds against him as if everything was sciuari'
Fight like any cornered house-rat, do his best and taist to Inok,
lie's a sandy little urchin that they've nick-named the "Canuck."

He's at home on the prairie, in the bush-wood, on the plain.
And no novice as a sailor, he is fearless on the main ;
lie can shoot the river rapids in his slender bark eanoe.
And in fact there's precious little that this handy chap can't do.
But he'll fight, that's demonstrated, and a match for any foe,
And when his country calls him you may gamble he will go,
Never bothers 'bout the distance, he'll be there and show Ids pluck,
He Is wooley, hard to curry, he's a corker, the " Canuck"

Thev may boast about their Eng-lish, of tlieir Irish and their Scotch,
Their- Fusiliers, tlieir Devons, tlieii- Highlanders and such ;
Tliey may brag- about their Dutchmen and the " Yankee Boys in Blue,"
But this plucky little patriot is a scrapper through and through,
lie will never raise disturbance, he is jolly, kind and free,
He's contented, he is happy, but 1 charge you leave him be,
-Don't go there with your invading, don't mistake about his pluck.
He's a royal Bengal tiger when aroused, this ere " Canuck."

He has had his little squabbles with the base invading crew.

And the outcome of the project should be proof enough for you

That he'll guard his native country here among the northern pine,

Canada his home, his idol, Canada, ah, land divine.

Then unfurl the old red banner, let them call it but a rag.

Brave colonials of valor they will rally round that Hag ;

Let them herald Britain's dying that her i)rcstige it has Hown,

When (ireat Britain's wounds are bleeding, she will never bleed aloric.

Hoist the loattle-scarred old banner, let it o'er the troopers Hy,
We will doff our hats with honor when the boys go marching by ;
Yes, unfurl tlu^ old red bunting, we will r^illy round it all,
Ami should dire defeat o'ertake it, then will we together fall ;
And ;is long as Kngland's England nniy she never c. ase to be,
We'll protect and guard her jjonor on the border on the sea ;
We will boast upon our Irish and our English and our Scot(i\,
On our bi'etlnen from Australia, our New Zealanders and nucIi ;
Loud proclaim their noble powers, brag ab(»ut their British pluck,
And we'll liiid a loyal patriot in the weallicr-woin "Canuck."

§«i^j,

Otber P<x.ii$ and Cprics.

The 'Bulls' and the 'Bears.'

I've been readiiiff in tlie j)apers

Of the mnny " bears " and " bulls,"
All about their trusts and combines ;

All about their money " pulls ;"
Some folks call th<Mn thieves and robbers,

Sayinjf that they're doin^ wrong",
Takiu}? from the honest workmen

That which most to them belong.

Tell me that they've made tlu^ prices

Of all necessaries hiyh,
Tiiat they've cornered up the markets

Of all thin}»'s luMieath the sky,
Say that I'll re<iuii"e a licence

Just in order here to stay.
Well, I haven't irot no license,

Nor I'm not a jfoini;- away.

I can't see how they're controlliuff

All the best and choicest thing's;
Don't believe the brif^litest tn'asurcs

All belonif to the monied kiii^fs ;
There ai'e scores of hallowt'd treasurot*

To the millioJiaires unknown,
They l)el()ii{,' l(» humble people

And controlled bv them alone.

They may form their trusts and conibines,

Fill tlu'ir p(»ckets with the spoil ;
Tlu'y may rais<' the price of living,

And put down the wage (»f toil ;
Haise their great sky -scraping l»uildings,

And put up the pi ice of rent ;
They nniy plunder, purge and pillag«»

Till they've c(»rnerc«l eveiy icnt.

They can fix the hours of labor

For the workman and the clerk,
And demand a double portion

From the slaves that do the work
They may corner all the markets,

Manage every stock and deal,
And the millions in their coffers

Seem to justify the steal.

They may form their trusts and combiner

And control the commerce trade ;
<yan extort upon the prices

On most every tiling that's made ;
They may fix a price for woollens,

For the cotton and the silk,
And arrange a price for produce,

For the cheese, the bread and milk.

They may t'orncr stocks of railroads,

Corner stocks of steamship lines,
Form their trusts of light and fuel ;

Form their combines of the miiK.'S;
They may multiply their thousands

Hy their scheming in an hour,
Hut to corner nature's treasure.

That is fur beyond their iK;\ver.

M'hey can't corner uj) the sunbciinis

Lighting up the murky clouds;
Cannot chaige their shining niiinent;

'I'urn them iii'o mo\n'niiig shn.uds,
Nor control ilu- gentle breezes

As they cool \'ie sweating Itrow.
On them they can form no coinbineH

With tlM'lr nnlllons, that I vow.

They cn't corne* \\) the shadows
Of the twiiiglit as they eceep,

Nor e(»ntn»l ihe gohlen sunset
Or the peaceful Ikhus of sleep.

:A:^;;^^- ^>'< ■''

They can form net trusts nor combines
On the coo!, delightful nir,

Or arrange their fancy prices
For the gifts of nature fair-

Cannot form no trusts and combines

On the moonlight's sonibre ray,
Nor the beauty stars that sj)arlile

Yonder in tlie millcy way.
Cannot form no trusts nor combines

On the wildwoods shady nooks,
Nor the grand and wondrous ocean,

Or tlie leaping mountain brooks.

They can form no trust or coml»ines

Of the music of the birds,
Nor the Christian deeds of kindness.

Or the kind and loving words ;
Cannot form their trusts and oombinjH

On hope, chanty and love,
Nor the great and priceless l)l('ssings

That are promise<l froni above

iJrighti^st gems hang rouiul in «'lusters,

Not by man nor men controlled,
Smiling in the merry sunsliiiu',

(Jlistening as polished gold.
Come then let us be eonteiittid,

Tlio' no scarlet coat we wear,
Tlio' uncouth and coartc the garn;«'nt

jiighter falls the weight of care.

Do not let the tlioiight possess yon
That tliey Imvt t\w, best of ail ;

Tho' Mie oatiiig may l(V)k sweei.est.
Inside may hv bitter gall. ,

True, the luimble have Mieir gri<'Vings,
Hut they're trivial as <',oni pared

With tl\e sorrows <if the lordly

. Ami A dignity impaircii.

Home.

c.uiada. my Idved, my nailve hiiul, which naluiv lias (MithraUcd jfoam;

With woodhind, lake and mountain sid(\ whore strcandcts lift their
WluTc freedom, fellowship and love are peacefully installed —

How sweet to speak thy viigin name and call thee home !

Is there of mortal kind a wroteh with wickedness so scarred

That he could mock the plaintive phadinj^s of the hon:esick heart,
Wiio for the sacred name of home himself halh no rey-ard

Or of his better self that home is n )t a part?

Kind nattire on her childi'en nil has dee)) this love impressed,

Be they the cultured and the learned, he they uidettered j^rope,

'I'lie love of habitation jrlows in every hutnan breast,
It sobers u}) the feelinjif and fans up the tii'e of hope

'i'lio' it may be l>ut humble the abode we call our own,
It nniy be in the <'ity or at rustic country-side

Perhaps iM'comc disordered as the varied years ha\(' flown,
Yet nu'inories of that home with us will »• rr aliide.

I low the poor truant outcast wandering'- to and fro afar,

Lies down to rest at eventide beneath tlu> starlight doujc,

Ansidu^ his y;a/.e is ll/»'(| upon some britvlit and disiaut stai',
He lonj;in^^ woudeis if it cculers o'er his home.

liehold yon Kouthcrn tnvveller on the storm swept norlhern moor.

O'ercome, sinks down to di-eam of li(»ni<\ of friend- and sunn>- skies;
There in !ii.< dream> pcrciianee he warm-^ before his own hearth-door,

And with hi" eountenaiicc ajflow he freezing dies.

>' S&f

Nay, space cannot obliterate, nor fleet-winged time eras*',

Yet may the cruel ax bespoil some favored woodland iiuuk ;.

Still will be left some hallowed spot, some kind and lovi ij? Uwv,
Tho' faint the outline left on home's treasured book.

Time only as the mountain stream deep down the crevio*^ wrars,

Tho' crushed the fragrant blooming flowers, is left th«! sw<«t i-»i (umv

Af- swift the sea-bird to her crag-built, downy nest repaiis,
So do our thoughts reveL and longing, wander hoiue.

7!)

THE DAYS OF "AULD LANG SYNE.'"

M;(y Ilcnvni diroct and ever jjf'iide the pen
Of him tluir. told the story ot Drunitoclity Glen,
"Tis bcttt'i" than sonw^ flowi'ry sermon taufifht —
I rearl from <'nd to end and had no evil tlioug-ht.

I liave not spaoe to }»-ive tlie (lien folk all their due,
Nor jfift to s'u\fr th<' |)rais<'s of the tri«'d and true;
Hilt sympathy for I)ruiiishen<;li I will here impart,
And ^ood old Dr. Weelum s kindness touched my heart.

Jh\rnhrne moved the feernijrs when he, tcnip<'st driven,
rMrt«'d with earth's all, hut fix<'d his ho|K'<tn Heaven,
Th»' Kirk and Kirkyard, the\- for me liave nniny ties—
Th«! Iiappy mct'tinys, weh-onn- {j^rasps, the s;id ji;ood-l)yes.

Coiiltl 1 hut wander hy l)niintoeht\ s tluwintf fonl.
And me<'t Kilspindi's ei.rj a)id hon«sr Hurnt)rae s lord,
I'd doff ni> hat t(t him of hijrit :»n«l lor<liy niijjht,
\Vl)i» to ihat d.iikt'iH'd cotiD-'s lif*- Imi kindly lifjfhl.

Xo M'nsnal tale is this to mar or taint ilie aj;o,
\h\\ viriur. love and strrliny \\'irth mark <vrry pap';
N(» tr<'a<'ln'r> nori-rimc the priet-h^-. It.r<ik «>vor<ls,
And di>e(»j'ds ar<' Jait iutiiludis Ix'twecn the words.

Oh, \\\:\\ it nevi-r ecn^f that »'arth >liall h.tv*- ^jh-at me*,
.\s Ian wiitrv .it I>niMil(i«'lit\ s hallo««M| jfh'U *
My ilKtiiijhi- for time will haunt the (ilen's ><i'elMd«'d n»»ok»,
.\iid ij'cii>urf in m\ Jieart its storv , priner of »MM/ks.

A<r«'pi my friend, this hiiml»l«' tntlojjy of mine —
Mav lleaviii utiidc MeLarrn ^ p«'M thrnuy:h «'very line,
And ivrr live the tale, ' Tin- l)a>s of \iild Lanj? Syne. '

The Old Time Huskin' Bee.

When the autumn sun seems linjjfei'in}? above the russet trees

And the seeond growth of clover scents the cooMn^ evening breeze,

When the corn is in the stook f(»nd memories come ro me,

Of the days long- past and g-one— of the okl-time " liuskin' l)ee."

When I see the harvest g-athered and the stacks around in rows,
And I listen to the cawing- of the lazy Hyinj^ crows,
When the birds in flocks have gatliered and the frost is on thy lea,
1 feel like gfetting- ready for the old-time " huskin' bee."

We lads and lasses off would ^o in lumber wa^on loads.

And we never thougfht of distance or the rou}jflin(!ss of the I'oads.

A waji^on with a hay-rack at that jH'riod, don't you see.

Was g-ood enough for us to ride to the old-time " huskin' Ih'I!."

The neighboring young folks all would come and each and every on**,
Would share in tricks r\ throwing corn and mingling in the fun.
And stolen kisses 'mcng the corn were no rare thing: to see—
They never were thought out of place at the old-time " huskin' bee."

'JMie huskin' nu'al with pumpkin pies ;nid lieaps of twisted cake,
And the appli' cider, g-ood anil strong, to keep the Ixiys awake,
Tin; wateiMiU'lon cut in sijuares would cause the youngsters glee —
Twas ni'ver run on the stingy plan, the old-time " huskin' i>ee."

Th(! old tin lanli'rns, from the rustic Itarn beams carefully hung,
(iave light as many a joke went round and merry songs were sung ;
Their murky light illnniecl dUc eiMUfly fac(^ that swei'ter seemed to me
Than all the rest assund)lrd there at the (»ld-time " Iniskin bee."

We'd husk a tinti-, theti \\v lad-; nil would clear the old barn floor

Ami then would partneis take and ^pcnd a timr at terpsiehore.

The licet winged monn-uts swift would lly, and when the hours were wee

We'd lea\-e in pairs ami merry loads from the oldtinu! "huskin' bee."

Where now ai-c those? Some rest in graves in western lands, unknown—

Inknown to friend or kindred— known to but tlieir (Jod alone ;

And those that liv<^ are scattered far o'er hind and over sea,

Vet still thiir presence haunts to-night tlu; old-time " huskin' bee."

wee

THE? Old Tavern Stove.

In a small rural villag:e, far back from the sea,

The dearest of all of earth's bright spots to me ;

Let me wander once more o'er the hill through the grove

And sit down again by the Old Tavern Stove. »

You can talk of your coal stove and range o'er and o'er,
And new fangled furnaces under the floor.
But I doubt if you'll find, though far you may rove,
Anything to throw heat like that Old Ta\ jrn Stove.

For years the Old Stove held a prominent place.
And would never resent though oft spit in the face ;
And the Innkeeper he, it never did move —
'Twas like one of the family that Old Tavern Stove.

Now yon seldom would find a merrier crew

Than all of we working lads, honest and true ;

With the days work done, we would meet in the grove,

Toast shins and shop yarns 'round the Old Tavern Stove.

How oft I have heard the old-tfme drummer say,
When making bis rounds on a cold winter's day.
He'd feel warm on the road, as he through the sleet drove,
When he thought of the fire in that Old Tavern Stove.

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When tlu» flays they grew short and Xmas waw jioar,
And all of the village folk were of jjood cheer,
From the farms 'round the boys would come in a drove
And drink a good health with me hids 'round the stove.

Thoitjfh many the chan^i^e, yet the stove keeps a hold,
And, too. Iik«i the boys, lias jyrown rnsty and old ;
Now th»^ Innkeeper sleeps in the <'emet'ry {?rove,
And strangers I see gnther(;d 'round the Old Stove.

Hut, alas ! to thost^ scenes I must now say good-bye,

And think of th(? bygt>nes but with a sigh ;

But the place of my childhoffi I ever will love

And hold dear the friends that sat 'round the Old Stove,

.'-

Peggy And Co.

There's a little estaMishinent uj) a sUlv street,
Surrounded by trees in a villajre afar.
And a dear little elerk that is tidy and neat.
She's as charming and brifi^ht as a twinklintr star.
Siie deals in ifood wishes and hai)|)y home blisses
And bunches of kisses to make the heart fflow,
With a stock of jfood jjraces an«l brifjht smiling faces-
The little love firm of reg'f::y and Co.

As twili}rht approaches I hast<'n and Imrry
Away fron) all toll to that little love ston^
(^Uiite forjfet all the cares of the day and its worry
While j(.kin{f with Pejrtry and Co. by the door.
They treat me to kisses and serve up their blisses,
They wish me jjikkI wishes and love me, 1 know.
There are never the traces of sour l(M>kin{f faces
At the little love store of iV'jfjfV and Co.

Thou^jh a waiulerer now from tlnit rural retreat.

My thouy'lus they return to that defir happy spot,

Aiid 1 h»nfr f(»r tjie time when n»y VviXixy III jfreet

And taste (»f her wears in her little hom«' ccit.

To sliare in her blisses and receive their yood wishes.

And tasti' of their kisses as pure as the snnw,

Have them to me cliu;rin}f, hear their sweet Itallads sin«:inj;.

The dear little lirm of lV'>?}ry ""d C(».

To and fr»», as 1 wander, 1 nev«r cm find
Anyone that's so triut ror a heart that's sn ^nty,
Nor no one so sreminjriy Invin;; ami kind
Thev <lrlve all my tflo(»iny lorelMMlinjfs away,
For they deal In brltflit >,'l(»ries, tvll sunshiny stories,
Sweet bri^htsidrd stories to make the heart ^^ow.
There you'll llnd no repinin;; in* frettln;? imr whininjf,
At the Utile love storu of Pi'tf>cy '">•' '■^'-

pfi

Thirt liMlo U»vi' linn with its nic«* little olerk

1^ iny l\u\M' jiiul my tmisuit*, the |*ri<lc of my life,

Kor them 'tis « j^ensm-e to lal>oiir, to work,

Ki.r IVjrjry rtiul C<». Is my »Mil>v Jtinl wife.

They've u suick of j?oo«l wifcihes uiid buneht^ of kisacs,

They'if wsiitiii}? their blisses on iw to U'stow,

To sf tlieir ♦swfvt faees jmuI shaiv in their jrraccs,

I'll hie me away (o my J'cj^gy aiwl Co.

To Arms ! To Arms'! !

il..,u ' Imi-k ' it i« the (logs of «iu- »■,. \mv out cor tlic main.
! H,„™.l'of Ulcn loLd ana on ti,.- Mack "'^^^^^^'^

K„.|,le^ i» war, but right »■"' l'X,'r;V ' , '.' . ; ; wail :
I on«'-' loiitf! have wc pk'juk'd, Kiffeud, lit.iia mm m n
WUcr to forfeit life resistinf; ^vro..f,Mn ''^ >;;";;";; ;;;;^ ^^..„.
Than nve and bear the insult, of a U.v and '"'"/jV^f?;;;;;, .,, , „,,,

l',.,n.le of one s*pirit. monarch and re| nl.lie, « f mi;";'^^;' •
Vrhion hands and hearts, now n.al<e one nuphly fo.ce,
O ;aZ e e tn, eant, nor west, no snnth, le Mm re no no, h
; w t at,.rnal friendship for the 'i^ht now .,eal; : .o fo.i

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lUit

\Ui ve art children of our

lU. ve art enu.m-.. u. uu. home, our lovoij.- household 1 and

i;;: ye one whole, and drive eaeh ruthle.s ty.ant f- ->;;;•';<-;; ^„„^,

Ket ))Vjr*>nes m

,w he burled deep : let faetions doctrines 1 r.
„. O.M. in peace, be one in war : rulo.s ..f ea.lh and s.a _
liuli.ur as Mu-en antl President, w.fh wimIou. i nie .,,,.1 ■ .
M^alhtin^ :md shapin^r a woHd a. ,wo ^reat .-'- J^; ' '•^^ '
Ti,..n will the fetter and chain diM-ardod W, and i- oM n » .

{•8

A Cart Horse's Soliloquy.

Only Ji poor old cart horse of tho town,
Wing-boiit'd and spavined and quite broken down,
Ilauiinnf and tugj^ing at coa' up a grade,
Hearing the curses and feeling the braid,
Often in temper, on my weary round,
I near cursed the man the mineral found.

Oidy an old cart horse, now nearly blind,
No stranger to whip and to words unkind,
At feed-time I heard the stable man say
" That old black pelter there ain't worth hii* hay
Though wo in youth may be clioice of a fold.
We're graded the same as the rest when old.

The time was when I was thought of some use,

Petted and fondled, unknown to abuse.

My owner would groom and curry me o'er,

My coat looked slick as the castor he wore,

And when I was harnessed and hitched with care.

Folks thought me the very best horse 'round there.

Mv master, a bland young fnrmer of pride
Oft drove me out with a maid by his side.
And happy the hours that winged o'er we three.
Then his mind was not very much on me.
He'd kiss her sweet lips and call her his dear,
And whisper some words that I couldn't hear.

But the height was reached of my horsehoo l pride
The day she was made a mistress and brl<le.
Then we happy three drove back to the farm
And her presence seemed to give a now charm,
Kind words and kind deeds nnit every demand-
Oft I've been fed and caressed by her hand.

Hit

It gives me new heart to think of the past,
Of those f^ilded days too brilliant to last.
Though we were steady and constant di<l toil,
There seemed to a blight come over the soil,
And my master he of his health was denied,
Lingered a while, dear kind friend, and then he died.

The sheriff came on with words rather rough
And sold me off with the rest of the stuff.
And my mistress wept as in childish years,
Hut you can't pay creditors off with tears.
And I was led oft to be slashed and ill used,
Swore at and upbraided, be jerked and al)used.

I'm only an old cait horse of the town.
Hauling and tugging at eoal up a grade.
Hearing the curses ami feeling tin' l)raid.
One of those daws 1 will fall in tiie tn-ek,
Take my last load and trii>, luver come back.

Figure For Yourself.

S Clio y.KMl and useful maxims, lad, I've beard from time to time,
A;id Olid ropeat a score of them in either prose or rhvnie ;
Ivci)(:i'i<'iiL'i' has tauyflU me some and one I'll tell, vou <'lf,
' Pis this—'- When flgurin«f figures, lad, figure for yourself."

In tills biif wjrid, this great big busy world of ours,
Tiiii/e's none too many roses, or an overstock of ii.)wers ;
Y » ril find m-iukind a thorny crowd, and if you slyly scan,
Yji'll find them figuring for them-»elves, in )st always to a man.

L
1'
A

I do not mean to teach my lad that all are thieves and ghouls,
F<n' many have, through conscience sake, true honor in their souls
Nor do I say that naught there is a " friendship true and tried."
n;it you will find it better for to in yourself confide.

W.ien striving hard to win, my lad, true merit here on earth,
Tiie plaudits of a careless crowd arc but of little Worth ;
X )r heed ye not the poisoned darts that critics may let fall—
U'.'member sterling worth in time will triumph over all.

\ sticrot frien i is well, lad, but d ) not have too many.
An, I p)unds have oft been made, lad, by laying by a penny ;
M(! honest and ba upright in your gain of worldly pelf.
He can't be called dishonest, he who figures for himself.

I) )n't glory in your own success nor bjast of what you do,
Voi' many you will meet, my lad, that know a thing or two ;
lieserve thy.self as i)e*t you csm, hi' list, I tell you so,
Y'ju never will get thanks, my lad, for telling all you know,

He who you are and what you are, put on no cloak nor mask,
They will not lift a burden, lad, nor eai^e a thorny task ;
f\>ntent thyself with honest toll, thy duty never shirk,
Ik'inetnber idleness has filled o'er lU'iny graves than work.

Tlie liattJi- is n<«t to tlic stronj;, th<i raw not to the fleet,
Ami tln.iijjii odds may •)« against you, never court defeat;
A !sec(.nd place in life's great raoa is better far than none,
And plm-k ^nd jwrseverancc has many «a victory wen.

lie siu-(! al»out your bearing, lad, life's ship will toss and roll,
Life's sen has many storms, lad and many a hidden shoal ;
I'ull steady on your purse strings, stock well the larder shelf,
And wlien' vou're figuring figures, lad, figure for yourself.

fs •

KEEP A PEGGING, POUND AWAY

You mischievous stirrin' lad,
Sit down by your serious dad^
Listen to his little fad,

Keep a pe^ffing, pound away,
Whether gloomy, whether sad.

Keep a pegging, pound away.

Clouds will rise and storms will eonu%
Life's frosts make your feeling numb.
But of sunshine there'll be some,

Keep a pegging, pound away,
Though you're but the merest cruujb.

Keep a pegging, pound away.

Do not loiter on the road.

Do nor. stumble with your load.

With a true and honest code,

Keep a pegging, pound away ;:
Though but humble your abode.

Keep a pegging, pound away.

Though the wayside loungers jeer,
Tho' the proud and haughty sncM'i*.

When the road looks dark and drear.
Keep a pegging, pound away ;

tio ahead and never fear.

Keep a pegging, pound away.

Should life's warfare mark and mar.
And the journey jolt and jar,

When the goal may look afar,
Keep a peggings pound away ;

Murkey clouds bedim your star,
Keep a pegging, pound away-

Calmly mt'et each stubborn thing,
Always to your honor cling ;

Do the right though great the sting,
Keep a pegging, p »und away ;

When you feel like sighing, sing.
Keep a pegging, pound away.

Possession all witliin you lies.
Strive to be the good and wise ;

Strive to win the hallowed prize,
Keep a pegging, pound away ;

There's no rest beneath the skies,
Keep a pegging, pound away.

ill

A PRETTY ROUGH WORLD LITTLE CHAP.

It's a pretty rough worFd you've stniek, littlv rhai,"
Pretty rough vrorld to get through^

And your mother and I

Other fish have to fry
Than running and waiting on you.

Maybe you think it fun

To keep ns on the run —
It's a blessing to us you're not two.

For one of you're stock

Is enough in a block
To haloo and yell goo-goo I

It's a pretty rough world, you'll find, littU* eliajj,
A pretty hard \s 'd, you'll find,

You'll need jog a pace

If you keep in life's race
Or youll be a back number behind.

You'll need to be tough

And be made of good stuff.
Not o'er chicken hearted inclined^

So rest while you can

For there's none for a man,
There's none for a man, little chap.

It's a pretty tough world you've strnek litth' t'licip,
A pretty tough world, I know,

Can't blame you a bit

For showing your grit
'Cause things ain't a runnin' just so,

Kut your starting to kick

About things mighty quick
And dictating how they should go.

But don't get too gay

With jour pert little say
Or you'll run against snags, little chap.

Jt's a hijf, busy world you'll hiul, littli- clinp,
A big;, busy world, and wide,

With its right and its wronj?

And its great caroh'ss ihrong
That are drifting along . vith tlie tide

So don't think you're l»uss,

Nor get haughty and cross,
Fur timer's many {» ' jwnfall to pi iui'.

Better save all your te? rs

For the shipwreck yuai>-,
For there's many a biiU'i!, little ch;»i».

It's a pretty cold world you'll tind, littlr chap.
It's pretty careless and cold —

It don't care, my hid.

For you or your dad —
If you haven't got genius or gold.

'Twill give you but jeers

For your useless tears,
l^etter leave all your grievings untold.

He your own bosom friend

For it pays in the end,
Yes, it pays in the end, little chap.

It's a long, long world, and it's wide, litMr diap.
A long old world and it's wide,

And the folks you'll tind

They ain't any too kind.
So with us you'd "letter abide.

The ^^-veat worldly crew

Will come calling for you
If you're worthy, for genius can't hide,.

So contentedly rest.

In your nice cradle nest.
These are halcyon days, little chap.

I
I

1 —

To A Caged Canary.

Ill lt()ii(l;i«r(' l)re(l. in boiuliiffo held,

Sweet hird of sonfjf ;
From wire bound cajfe tliy notes jii-e swelled

The whule day \oufi;.

We hear thee pipe at early morn

A welcome lay ;
The echoes throujfh the hall are borne

In harmoiiv.

Yet hajjpy in that iron boiiiid fold,

Tool tortured thinjf,
You, like some martyred saint of old,

In prison aiug.

Me-thinkH at times to break the seal

And let thee Hy
To yonder bush, and freedom feel

Once ere you die.

Tnto your mate uiothinks I hear you sfnff

In some f^reen nook,
Then fly to dip thy beak or flit thy wiu^f

In somi; clear brook.

Or help to build the skilled but tiny nest

In some old Wvv,
And soothe with evening sonjf thy youn^ to rest

When thou wur't free.

Say, wotihl I now but let thee go

To join the throng,
Would thou return at winter's snow.

Thou ^erm of sonn:?

The District Fair

I'st

It s tlie same old fair
In tlic! stfiiu'. old i)lace,
The same j,'rey liorse
In the same scrub race.
Tlu! same old rooster
And the same old hen,
The same old maid,
The same homely men.
The same old boys
And the same }ifay jfirls
With th<^ sanu! old {Jrijfjifles
And the same old curls.
The same old peanuts
At the same old stand,
The same old clowns
And the same old band.
The same stunted melons
In the same old riff.
The sanu' old waj^on,
The same old {ji}!:,
The sai'u^ spooney pair
Lal-a jrafifj-in' nround,
The sanu' little kids
Stcelin' into the jrrountl,
TIm^ same old police
There watchinjj; the lads,
The same old fakes
And the same old fads.
The san!(^ old farun-r
With the same ol<l ba^r**.
The Hame old bums
With the same old " jiijjs "
The sanu' old cows
And the sanu' old bulls.
The sanu- little winks
And the same little " pull
The sauu' head inarsl.all
On the same black najr.
TIh' same old bunting'
And tlui same old tla;;.
The same old balloon,

All but tlie bu.-t.

'I'lie same old dirt.

Till' s.'Uiu^ old dust.

TIm' same fancy-work, f»tc.

IVi'ii sliowinp: sine*' the (iixwl

Twilight on the Lake.

Kciicaili tlu! western hills llie sun dips down,
A diM' of veruK'il light and purple fire,
A spell of stillness now is hung upon
The uncient forest with its feathered lyre.

Tilt! sheen of sunnner's preen and leafy {rown,
Like some fair maid's, her jewels jjlit and gleam,
A film of hazy gau/e, a form of grace,
Now floats before me lik<^ a jtleasing dream.

And there the lyrie hrook which nature has enthrallM,
The tuneful ear' of May nunU' silvery in tones.
Here to my haunt her shrunken rivulet has crawled
And flows'with sullen nmrmur o'er the stones.

The cool, beloved bree/(^ with healing art.
Now fans my cheek ami cools my feasting brain.
It h'uds dull anguish wings to swift depart
And drives away the Ixd-fellow of pain.

100

A Charleston Lake Lyric.

Come with me awaj^ at the glistenir.jj; <hiwn
Throuffh the ticlds with their sweet scent«!(l I'lovor,

Where the streamlet is crcepin}^:,

Now gliding, now leaping',
The grey granite rtwks bounding over.

To tlie stillness and cool, we will wander away.
We'll follow the stream in its flowing —

Its windings and turns,

By the maiden-hair ferns,
Hy the wild-flags and pitcher plants growhig.

Come wiih me away to the enchanted Lake,
With cessation from toil there we'll loiutr,
In the shade of the crest
Where the gull hangs her nest
And the white lilies float on the water.

Where the lan<lsca|x; resplendent in color Is toni'd
With tints that no artist commands,

There the purple>» and bhu's

And tlie warm russet hues
Are blended by masterly hands.

The crags lifting up from their Arm mount;! In beds
Like gilded church spires they are shining.

TluM'e the (evergreen trees

Rock a-by in the breeze
And the clouds show a tip of their lining.

The wild roses bloom on the grassy de.seeu».

And the butUu'-cuns nod in the hollow,
Where the sandpiper sings
My the wild gra|M> that clings

And the water-fowl feeds in tlie slndlow.

101

tic.

My boMt is awaitiiifr nw down tlie calm bay
Willi winj,^s snowy wliitc as the plover,
And often, I reclion,
Her white wings they beckon,
As a maiden would signal her lover.

Then hasten away at the glistening dawn,
Through the sweet-scented dales we'll be wendnig,

Till we come to the lake,

To the lily and brake.
When the soft sombre colors are blending.

We'll be soothed off to sleep at the close of the day.
As the soft summer twilight is falling,

To the tremulous tune

Of the sentinel loon
And the voice of the whip-poor-will culling.

102

Never Mind,

Should the biji: \\'orU\ sneer and frown,
Seeminff ti-y to keep you down.
Steel your well deservin<;- crown,
Grieve you with its deeds unkind ;
"«irin and bear it," never mind.
Nature jjfave to and I
Moie than men couhl, should they try.
(jifts which money could not buy,
Precious jjfifts of |)riceless kind,
Men can't steal tluim, never mind.

Here the worm-wood and the |j:all
l»3ur their drops for one and all,
Some are great drops, some are small.
With your portion he reai}j;n(Ml
To yourself your woe confined ;
I^it the sunshine ffild your van.
Speak a kind word when you can ;
Kind words son»etimes make; a man.
So disdain l)e <lumb and blind,
Do >our duty, never mind.

Others finer cloaks may w«'ar,
With them you t'O^ild not compare;
Hut they all their crosses bear
And have failinjjs, too you'll find,
Kailiuffs of the canker kind.
As you chant your humble s<>n}r.
Sliould you »\uii a nn'asure wrony
'i. will '.nu'monize t''er l<»n<j,
Do not stop nor lap: behind.
Keep on singiny:, never mind.

There are false pretenders, true,
Hut >ou'll run across a few
Which p«'rchanc(^ know nior<i than yon.
" Know-alls " are not hard to fiiul ;
They can't hurt you, never mind.

103

Storms will toss your slondcr boar,
Kead your chart of life by note,
'• I'unip {>iitl pray " to keep afloat ;
Sonic calm liarbor you will find,
Watch the breakers, never mind.

Often down some unkjiown bay,
Treasure ships are cast away,
Ships of rich<;st treasures they ;
Treasure-seekers will them find,
Trin> their sails before the wind,
I>oose the anchor, set them free.
Steer them o'er the troubled sea.
Fast them to the Howery lea.
Cast their worth before n.ankind ;
Do your best, then, never mi)nl.

"<'.

p<*iJ

104

To Our Fallen Heroes.

Two tliousand stronjif tJicy sailed away
IMck of our kin our pride were they
(iailant and brave were our l)oys that da\-,

The best we had,
To do and to die there at their post,
With no vain heraldy nor bonst.
For far from home on Afriea's et)asr.

Some Iiearts wen; sad.

There facinj*" cannons, smokiny jaws,
There tijifhtingf for tlie Saxon laws
There dyinjj for another's cause ;

What ask ye more?
Or think ye should you closely scan,
That fill their place we easy can V
No, each was every inch a man

Who left our shoi'e.

On Africa's dreary veldt they stood.
Abreast the cannon's leadened Hood;
Around them runniny pools of bloocl,

They pushed forward.
Surrounded they by Britain's dead,
Still fif^htiu};- on wluai others tied.
We'll never run, methinks they said,

Tliey were no cowards.

They, sturdy chanif»ions of ntiyht,
Tliey, cuninnfr craftsmen in the lif^ht,
And demons in the cause of rifjfht.

To make men free.
Yet tem|)ered as r.jic wild woods rose.
Loving and beloved ill a land of snows.
But they a thorn to Saxon's foe.-?,
And tyranny.

lUf)

:^.

Knslu'oucl tliem in (ivotxt Brltjun's pride,

'IMicir nntive emblems lay beside.

It wns for them tliey fought and died ;

We'll be resigned.
M)\y f^rtxon nations cli)sp the hand,
And o'er their honored dust demand
'riiat eijual i-ights be o'er the land

For all maidiind.

' ^

'lis sad that they should die and Icavr-
TIk^ good work which they helped achi(;ve ;
We feel tiie keen remorse and grieve,

Hut say, " AVel! done "
O'er Kopje and o'er veldt afar.
The strife goes on like bitter war,
And near their graves will mark and mar,

liut they'll rest on.

V r^f

A nation's sorrow is the wage,

AVrite down their names on Idstory's j age,

]*reserve it for the coming age

In accents clear.
As long as Canada shall be,
As long as Saxo!is rule the sea,
As long as men love liberty,

They'll hold it dear.

107

A TRIBUTE TO THE "HABITANT

•9

(to AVILLIAM henry Dl'LMMOXD, M. D., MONTREAL. V. Q )

I am rt'ad on your book much as nine ten tarn'
Air n)y wife she'll read liim some to—
1 tlioujrlit dat, maltee, I would write a few line
An same tarn' con«?ratulate you.

I'm poor llahitant and am never learn much,
But jus' de old connnon school book,
An' I know tinj? or two, can chop on de bush,
An' pass o\\ dc barj»e as de cook.

1 am play Hddle some, can work on de farm,
reel ram-a-tack bark in the sprinj?,
I am n:anaj;e de punt, an' catch de buU-pluj,',
All' tink I can do plaintee ting.

lOS

Now, do book dat I'll buy its not cos' mv miich-
I tink 'bout two dollar de fee —
But 'twill do plenty well for poor Ilabitunt,
An' no man gets dat book from ine.

An' my wife, Josephine, she'll work wery h.-ird.
She'll knit all de sock for de men,
An' sometime, by-an'-by, when njonet; pjentir,
We'll get better Drummond book den.

Dere's heap of gfood ting in dat plaint<'e ciicap book.
All about de French Habitant,
An' my wife, Josephine, she'll cry every time
I read on de wreck " Julie Flaunt."

An' mabee I'll turn on de very nex' pago.
Read de •' nice leetle Canadienno ; "
She'll wipe off her eye and say, " well dat's nn>,"
An' laugh like she'll bus' at it den,

Am read all about Jeremi^ and his girl.
An' also read poem Jubilee,
Dm [ swing my shapoo. an I shout hooray
For de Queen and for our Canadie.

I like every piece in dat book " Habitant,'
Mut mos like de piece Jubilee,
For when it says how " les Canayens can tii,'lit,
I shout "Bullie Ike " dat is me.

I'v' a couple of boy and four or five girl,
I ni going to have learn on dat book ;
'Twill niaybee keep it from danger by-an'-by —
They'll read the " Julie Flaunt " cook.

I don't want to take up de mos' of your tim«*,
Hut vish you success and content;
I 'vill pray providence spare Willie Drummond
An long live his book ''Habitant."

!()'.>

BATTEASE TYPE WRITTEN LETTER

('ill pass on ({(• |(()s' office, Hvc;, six days ajjo,

An' ax ftii- all tic n<'iirlil»<»r folk, an' for myself also.

1)(; postmans ylf nw Ictt.-r, wan all prinU^l on dc face,

Am (.ok at it an' tink niyscif it's come from great bizsc' place

I'y jjar, it's nearly mak' me mad, I no can nnderstan',
Deys tink maylx- I'm some jjrossoon an' no one can read do han'.
An' den m\ wite he's all explain, he's say dat's all de style —
Dat wealthy firm (h)nt write some more but print it all the while.

An' when T read d/it letter tln-oiig-h, an' fin' it's from jrood frien'.
Dats mak' no fool of me at all, why tinj^s are all rijflit den,
An' when he savs j,'-o(.(l tin^s 'bout me and wishes me success,
I'll tink myself I'm some punkin, I'm pretty ja-oud, you f,'uess.

I'll say Hooray for dat yood frien' dat's born brought up near nie,
He's have to go on Stat's Cnis to mak' it some monee.
He was good boy, dat's tiu(! for sure, not shamed of Canada u —
He'll not get dude in Yaiik<'c town, but jus' be Habitant.

He's ax ni(! all abf»iit de folkes. for sure dat letter grand,
And sends regards to all de boys dats play in village band.
He used to blow brass horn wan time and play on band he.ssef,
He was good man on tenor horn — we miss him when he lef,

He's send me couple |»i(!ce music, an' tol' me pass him roun',
An' ax me tell him all de news dats happen in de town.
I tink I'll write him pretty (piick an' sol' me load of hay.
An' buy me secundelasstictiuette an' go Boston some day.

I'd like to sec him very much, speak nice ting to he's wife,
You bet, she's nice Canayen girl, I know her all my life
I hope he'll make it plentee cash in dat big Yankee Ian'
An' pass on Ontario some day a wealthy man.

Los' On De Bush

(A TRUE STORY OF A CHILD'S IIKRDISM.)

Paulino, my chil', sit down by me, I'll tolo you story — ono
'Hout loetle «;irl got los' wan day down by bc^c^ lake Charlestor.
Her name it was Carline LjiRoso, she's live down on de lake —
II(M' parents dey were no rich folk an' no line house dey nuikV

Wan day her parents dey go out to pick on berry patch,
Leavj lectio babe in small shantee with hrave (Jarline to watch.
Carline got lonesome V>y-an-by, small babe(! he can't talk.
An' good Carline she's pick him up and go for Icctle walk.

Jus' leetle way, she tink shcMI go, upon an ol' cow track,
lint somehow she's got los' on bush an' cnn't Hn' shantee b'U'k.
She's look dis way, she's look dat way, l)ut cow track it am gon*'.
She's go up hill, ami she's down hill, an' hy-an'by nij^ht pass un.

Den she mak' bed of leaves for chil' ilfit soon go way to sleep,
An' l)r:iv(^ Carline, lak sojer man, she's o'»'r <lat habc watch keep.
Si> do not have no ting for eat, hut berries grow on hill.
She hear no voice do whole long night, hut jus' hird whip-poor-will.

IVv-an-hy de morning shc^'ll come light, an' chiT its start to cry
An' Carliiu^ she Is tInk herself without he eat he'll die.
In place dat's lef by fisherman she find small l)ottl«' dere.
She hieak up Inn'ry wiih her hand an' jiilee foi halie prepan-.

por fom* long night an' four hnig day d'aulhn' dis story true),
De brav(> Carline she mind dat chil', jus' lak its motlor do.
Ih-r clothes were torn by Inu'ry hush, her lettlr fcrt was hai'e,
Hut bahc if he was pass alright for herself she don't care.

Hv cli!nR*<> M'siour I*t»n-h wnn (Uiy was j^o on lake in yacht,
An' t)r<)vi<l<MR'<> help steer <le boat, must be clar to dis spot.
He link lie hear liim k'efle iioi.^', hik jsome small children cry,
lie stop <le l)oat an' look aioun' an' luav*' Carline he spy.

• idod man lie tak' her on his boat an' bring- her to his wife,
Madame I'aiish do all she can an' save de brave chil's life.
1 (luul)t if <lere 1x3 sojer man dats Hjfht on land or s<fa
Dats [)ass through more thai! she did or 1x3 braver dan she be.

Since tlu'ii the p^))ers all mak' praise and call her heroine.
An' lady come from g-n-ar beey place to see the brave Carline,
An' all de folk dey shout lloitray I an' pass aroun' de i>lat<i
']'«) pur some (lres.s on J)i'iive Caroliiu' an' liclp for educate.

11:

Old Wes'por'.

['m travil mv forty wmii mile, inaybo iiiorr,

On ole railway car till. I'm pass on W(w'|.(,i'

I'm came (Um'c for |>ain^ for wan liccy: Yankee man,

Who for fresco de cluircli lu; lias it yood plan,

Hees pay plenty cash, waal I'm don't care fer dat,

lUit hees tine rosey yirl, she's a nice wan you het.

Its mos'ly fer dat on Wes'por' I'm yo,

But when I'm came dere slu^s haV 'not^ler l)eau.

"Waal I'm fevl v<'ry l)a<l, an' dat places I'ound de eye.
An' dc fjreat heej;: ti'ar it is cf>me wid de cr.\
I'm ax her what fer she is tak' it dis plan :
She's say she's no us(^ fer de ole married man
Slu>'s tink dat hees look it mncli han'scjm' mahee -
Waal dats jjoixl tin^*- foi" him I'm tnai'rie(l nnin me.
I m tole him for dis if liees drop it d«' law.
An' put up his han's I m mak' him h«>rraw.

hat's miyhty tine place, de ole town of Wrspoi"',
Shes huild Ity heey hill on d<! ole Kideau shore.
An l)ully jfood jtlace for to catch it hce;,' (Isli ;
De pike an' " hull plu<r" am mak' de lin' dish.
She's ]»laintee nice iiU'\ dat is wink on de <'ye,
And i^Wv it nice »m\W as she's pass on you l>> .
She'h have line gentleman's, an' nice ladv tew,
Dat do all dey can mak' de wi-lcom' for you.

She's jfot de nice church 'hout de Ites' dat ymi II fin'
An' de preachers for sure dey are lovin .uid kin'
SIh''« print it la pape, (U' mirror, shes ;rt»od wan,
An' Mis'i'r Adams h<>'s Itully ^-ood man.
I ni jfo flere for hear all ahout dat lieey war,
I'm fin' it de (Jlohe. an' de Mail an ch- Star,
I'm ^-iiess h«''H don't mind him de tfreat polctic
lU; don't say it much an' don t nmk' dc Itee^'' kick.

113

Dcrt-'s bully {food man?' dnt's conic jjrcy on de face
Dats Scotch Willie Fife, dafs work on Dier's place
He {food for dc liunt an' liees ji^ood tislicnnan ;
I Ices Hsli it wid nie but bees never cotch wan
Waal (bit's seldom tinj? wben bees fail to allure ;
An bees say dat bees tink me dc Jonah for sure,
llccs say licc:; a mind drown' me over de boat,
Dat is if bees sure dat 1 neve>' would float.

You ni'ver tink dat of ^oo mans, Willie Fife,

Dat ln-es lift bim bees ban's for tak' llal)irants life.

Hut bees come pui'ty mad when bees no catch de trout-

Heyosh I I m afear mabce bees throw me out.

Hees say de Frenclunau is rio {food lak de Scotch :

Waal I ui don t come nu' mad mi kin' fren very miu''i.

Ilees say all hees life hees don't see (b; like ;

I UI don t Umiw me for dat — l>ut bees cotch it no pike.

llces t>ilc all about bim- -kill one thousand deer,

Cotch ten million lisb wid de hook an" de ; pear.

Ilees Inle it beey* yarn bout wliai. bees used tew do,

I 111 d'lulit it my fren s if dat yarn it be true.

("i.ui's( 1 111 can t say btr (bit, Willie may liav' de plan

Hut I m speak bout de da.\ dat hees never cotch wan.

its piMtN bad lint; tor blame Freiu-h Habitant,

When bees hav dc sam' bate an' de {food whiskey Itlaiic,

Wall bow lon<;' I am stay on Wes'por' T in can't tell,

Hut dis I am siy dat de peep use me well ;

.\n' when I'm pass on an' de steamliaiy I in tak',

I'lii ^av (b yood word b>r >Vcs'por by de lak".

(ouise Im b'cl piirty «frieve an' Ini lieeve de beejr sinli,

All' de lu'cy Itlilidili' tear he's conic on de eye,

l''or I 111 los' mi bes fren' dat de tiny imrty clear.

For dat b-ller hec-^ steal bim mi nice rosey dear.

OLE White-Fish Joe.

Olc WiiittT |ic« tfo for to lak' Iccllc re.*',
He's blow lak lie l»iis' on (k- 1h'(';j: MjiicIi «';iI«',
]h> 8«iuli>i|K'r slic is coimiMMH'e Ixiil' (\o iich',
An' co\vsli|ts mIu's y»'llo\v down on do dnlo.

Olo Whitc-llsli Joe koop liini cyo on (\r m-iUlrr,
life's i>ntfli np olo punt dats ddwii on ilc lak',
lire's p)t do salt polk an' do tin^i; altn^rcddci ,
All' boog. Itooff Ixittlo of sonu'tliiny^ for tak'.

Olc WliUv Hsh .loo lie !<* yond lislicr nuui,
lli'o's jivo him lony' tani (»n (»lo Cliarlosroii lak',
An" jus' for do luck Wliilo-ll^ii has (K- plan
For firing ucroaf lu-oy; lioiih- of dat tin;; fur ink'.

115

Hoe's go deio, lio sm\-, for dat rccroation,
liut Joe, yon enii hvi, lie will fish wid dat hook,
An' if lie (ioirt eotcli liini to dat exp<>cration,
You'll hear it some ting dey don't print on de book.

Ole White fish Joi', hee's tole me hisse'f,
lice's bobbin for ti;*h on dat punt all de nig-ht.
If he tink it for sur<' d;it he don't gvt him lef
An' dat on day broke he vould g:et it beej:: bite.

He's coteh him for sure i)laintee beegf salmon trout,
For Ole AVIiite <i>li Joe lie's know de lak' well,
Ihit how manv ix-e^ wans White fish is pull out,
For sure vou <lon't know bv the storv he's t<;ll.

Ole White-fish Joe he's jns' lak' de res'

Dat's spend leetle while wid dat rod an' de fly,

For to eoteh de heeff wan dey all do de bes' ;

If dey fail, jus' look out for some bceg whopi)er lie.

)E.

Some sports fi-oni de ole county town Is come out,
For to have Icetle tam to de lak' dey go down,
For sure dey is eoteh it j^reat Ix'eg salmon trout,
Ihit de story dey tole lak' Ole White-fish's soun".

Dey stay Cedar I'ark, dat's de plaeti dey know well,
Dat's M'sk'iir Leavitt's sure dat everyone know ;
If you lak' bee}; Hsh yarn, jus' fjet him for tell,
Mos' everyone tink he's beat White-fish Joe.

Hut dey say d<' Hsh yarns iley never count w«n.
An' .Jonah, de HsIkm*, hees min' de bij; jjate;
Well, dat's lueky titijf, for many jjood man.
liut 1 would not lak' ine fur to chance it dc fatv,

Ole White-flsli mtjs' pass o'er de river some tlay,
lle'» iK'tter p't nice leetle story prepare
An' hav<' it on heart in' already for say.
For lues Hsh story dat won't ^fu over dcrn.

!!(>

MY GRAN' CHILE LEETLE JOE.

Am" iiu'lilic iioif win' she blow cold dut nijflit,
IK' pork is Dack it in do Ixirl, potack lie's in de Ik-h,

An" cvd'i) tiuff aroun' de farm alrijj^lit.
Tis den I Iskk' to Unild Ihm'jj: tire in dnt oW. ram liii'-plat'*-.',

ku' p(»kt' inin up nnril lices mak' it {j^Iow,
lU'n I will lit nic up mi pcop and sjkmi' nio Icolle wliiU;

To play m«^ with mi j^^ran" fliilc let-tk' Joe.

Di' Wdinan f'-)Ik dcy f^ot M't down, some mak"^ pnnkin for dry.

Sonic ktiir cJe sock, some mak" dc applt^ pai'c;
"Hont den we start ;^ramni hid«' him seek, an' f^ran' chile leetle J..*-

Will hide hees sef scmiewliere amonjj;' de chair.
Hin-I»y I fin' him, pull him out, wees play at other ji>amm,

I mak him poney, «len "hooravv " she jf o ;
Mi <4'ra('ious huw I joy misef dem lanj>' lan^* winti.'r ni^^ht

I [ilay me with mi {^rai;' chile lewtle ,Io«.

.\m taU (fe royrie upon mi kn«'e, f toh' him story few,

.Altotit ole tam w'en I was lad de sam :
Mehhe I'm tell how French ami Knylish tijfht for Canadaw,.

An' die hrave soyeis on plain .Vhraham.
Hees a\ me many euri's tin«:: ahout dat cruel war^

An' coax me t(,le him more "hout htiifi" aj^o ;
I>eii I am spik him leetle piece compose hy " Mother (ioose/"

flees ran;,'li jns' lak heea )ius, my jfniu' chih; .loe.

W»m in^''ht r spik him little piece t-unii>ose l>y " Mother (loose,'"

Alu)Ut two dozen hlack birds hake in pii'.
How ^■\'U <ijit pie was ope' de hirils dey start for sinj;;

Hees look at nu' an' sa\ hees tiidx it lie.
Hees say if coujile »lo/en l)ir<Ls was Itake it hard in pie,

I low <iey would start for slnj; hees like to know ;
Diit's why he's tln'^ dut " Mother (ioose " is str»'t( Ii it of <le truth.

Voo luak no fool oe him mi ^fran' chik* •U>v.

117

1 ffi't, him interest in rhyme 'bout Ix'sffjirs conu' on town,

(.'arlo hoes dream an' ^Mf a leetle bark ;
iK'n leetli! Joe hves snuj? ui> closer to my side, fm- f«>ar,

Ilees say "(iran' Pa, Ts fear me ofdo dark."
An' den I tole all nhont jjood Mis'nr Santa Clans,

F)at driv<! h(!es k-etle reindeei- tlir'o de snow,
lldw hees cam' 'round nex' ('ris'mas tarn with iilantee leetle toy,

ViW sure hees not foryot mi <»'i'an' eliile J()(\

IFees a\ me ctiri's ejnestions, an' wants to know for why

I havu bald hed and beey, bcefjf nos^; an' lians;
Hees a\ me one tinj^ dot is mak' mv lanj,di heart y for sure,

Dat is, would he look lak me w'cn hees nnins?
3iin-bv hees i)ass him off to sleep I'i^'ht dere a^-in mi heart,

1 say me leetlo prayer dats soft an' low
An ax an Providence to tak' de all I have ftir spare,

Jiut ]>l<iase k)V spare mi jii'an' eliile leetle Joe,

118

The Habitant's Story,

I'll tole you story, wan dats happen lang- lang tarn ngo,
Wen I was young mans uie, and leeve up Mattawa
Do beenf rever sire's froze it up, an' deep, deep, deep de snow,
An' beeg^ sUantee slie's run full bias* along the Ottawa.

Me brudder's cousin, Joe La Doe, is give him grand soiree.
Jus 'fore de tani de good Cure's tole us for to keep letjt ;
Hees ax him all de jolly boy dats work in beeg shantee,
Dats bring his bes' girl wid him tew an everytlving slie's went.

Hees hire him Ole Battease Poekett dats play de ole fiddle well.
No mans he's beat Poekett, you bet, for play de ole tani tune ;
How many tarn I'm dance dat night, for sure I no can tell
But everyone is tink de dance is broke it up tew soon,

Xri brudder's cousin ax him come wan Jean >raurico Mnleth,
Dai's leeve him at de Cure's meebee, four, five, six mile away
flees bring wid him his rosa girl, slus was nice one you •)et,
Fer tole de truth, ml fren, I was for dat girl gone craza.

8he's say sh«"8 promise to Maurice, hut trole me down h«'r liDine,
She's plalntee sister dat is make good femme for ilubitant ;
She say (K^y mak de welcome fer it any tam I'm come —
I'm go, I m ittivrry Josephine, I'll be her bruder-law.

Well, for ml tale, de dance she broke, and all bid us bun soir,
Maurice hees fetch the careiall, Im Hx de robes alright.
We wished de both bon voyage soine tam, Im thrnk 'bout half-pas fonr.
Hees say hooraw tew French pony an' soon der out of sight.

De winler night she's cold dat tam, but the youny he/irt she'-; glow.
Di'y HPng np close tewgether and don't mliul de beeg snctw M|ual,
Hut jus' lak wink Maurice is fln' his Rosa in de snow,
rrvnuh pony he's get scar at ting an' tip de careiall.

ll'.»

ir.

Meebc hoes l>n.*y mmi ' ''"'"' , „.« not dere for tell,
Hat (ley WAS let tci uu

Oat uiglit dc NVoHe i> out

•- b'we tie 'rountl,

ms^M§M^^

\ t tVPO {ov sooti.
,,H. run lum ..od mUiUu^vs ■•-^H^,;;>-;f;,,. ,,„^

V. ;„.'•. l.-.;"'- "",",;;;:; , ''o V «n -uc.|.Uor -;•;,. .,

Uut (or ]^lavui<'«- '

120

Du euro is woak Ue neij^hbor folk, dey s;o for liunt on dem,
Dey tak dem plaintee gun and wan great boeg bulldog alsw
Dey tak de track dats lef by careiall on snow do men,
I)ev fin dem, drove dem off de wolf den hon)e de part\' go.

De cure liees go on St. Peter's an marry dtni next day,
Deys live dem many long, long year an lia[)py uuwa <ley sec,
An many tarns Im heard Maurice unto his good toniine say
Kosa, you don't forget dat tarns I s-park you on dv tree.

121

OLE

BROC'VILLE TOWN.

Sl\C S «0 »1N «'»

„i «r«".« « ,„,e «'«vc g-;'"'!* ^J oie place

'''\',;num ac s.m ;^ *^,„„u c.su. eye,

V ou jus let *u,e '* «' „,,„. u,. Co" ;'«:„
„,y .i"k e.. " '.J S_,„^ ,„gc,- .-eA. 1^

""■' "CiTiS e -;,.. <^* '^»""* "•'

12:

Sinco (l(>n \v»' aw, koop it; dc pcjict' ;»11 dc t;iin.

An i'^ot 'lonjjf wit, cl(> qcrcnt YihiUcc jicopli' ]\i< i\n ;
lint 'Iin tole you for (lis mi jjfood Y;nil<('c fen.

Don't; pass it your ^\u\ on dc Canadaw line ;
You can couk; visit us, you Ix' wcilconic fur dat,

W(!'ll shnlc(! it d(! han an dc jfoi d frcn we niak.
But you jus pass youi" iiaiid (tii Olc Canadaw.

Y(ju'll tin out, niv frcn, dat you niak Itcc^- niistMlcc.

Wall, dat is ionj;;' tarn since m\ <>randfad('r conu!

To live him on Hroc'villc from Olc M(»rrial,
Dat's long 'fore dc car or dc stcaud)(»at she s i»:o,

Dat's lonj?' 'fun; dcy build dcm dc j^rcat Ix'cj;' canal ;
Hces briuf*" wit liim tew nice ("aiiay<'n famni

Dat hces mari'v for love on dc Kivicrc dc Loup,
Dey's tak (Uim dc lioneymoou taip on Hroc'villc.

Up 01c St. Laurance KMvicre in wan bccg canoe.

Broc'ville, she's wild place \v\\\\ hces Ian liis canoe

On Icctic small island dats out from dc sluiri! ;
Dcre Ihh!s build liim shantec for nice Icetle famm

An tak him his ><n\\ ar. lay down by dc door;
Dcrc no much disturb him (l<! plenrce lon;^- ni>j'ht.

Hut many dc tai.i, w'lm dc nii,''ht she lie still,
Hces heal' him big bar prowl him 'I'ound on dc l)U->li

An listen dc wolfe howl on place "Scovil Hill.'"

Dc wild deer she's run w'er dc King street now pass

An tak to de wat(M" w'ere st(aml)oat she's Imu :
D(;re was lu-eg boulder hill w'crc now build dc; t wn.

An beeg bush com'ence w'ere de station now stan :
Dcrc was ulentec brave heart dats liv(^ dei'e dai t-nn,

Hut no braver wan dan mi grandfadcr .loc ;
Jus giv him de ting what you call dc fair play

Dat nmns vou can bt!t he is fear him no ft)e.

Wall, since dat de change she's pass on dc |>Iace ;

She's all builc up just lak nice city style,
De sti'an\ cai' slr.i's go an <\v boat she's Ian,

She'll le liecg city place in just leellc while ;

1:3

Slic's linvu (U' nice l(>lk <l;il von find ;m\ w ■(•re,
1)(* n'wv jroiUlciiH'trs (Irit. I'm >;)M'Mk it fur tiiic

An nice l;uly r<i\v |;ik vnu oMii.t tin dc Itcu,
A!'. j»i'<'tt.y (';ui;iv<'ii <i-iil s|i«' (l('r<' tt'w.

TwK mcuilMT <1('v u"i» for tc s<'t ])i\rlii'ni('nt,

hey differ dc iiolilif, com-sf', d,ir lie so.
Hdtli «rftt it yfocKi lu'i<d foi* to run imbiic iin:r

An jyo >(t s|»''<'cli on dc nioutii dcy is niMk ir, in 11 p\v ;
She s l)('('«j; factory tew, dat's i\iany dc tani.

An 1>('<'^' hoi'tj hot"! you can jjct wjiiskcy Itlanc.
I'nj oft<!n j;o in for to ics Icctlc \vliilc,

Have UK' lcctl<' cliat; ami sinok<' [k'i'i» tohac.

Sho's jjot two itnpcr dat i>^ ])i-int every day.

No town slic's li(>i\t dent ve y nuidi dat I yuess;
^Sonic tarn (Wy niak fus?^ 'l)ont de jjreat poleiic.

Den many folk say dat de botli was de lies;
De olc Kiicorder she is bes one f()r me,

I'm remomlter d<! tarn she's hold Ihh'<>- jubilee,
Dat's lon{? tani ',\^o. meehee twenty-five year,

I'm know editor den, Mes'ure Willie.

I'm don't want to tak me d(^ bes (if your tarn.

So dat's nios of de story 'bout f»le Hroc'ville town ;
M«'bee dat somtam I am tink more '^f it

I'm tol(! it to you some day w'en Ini come down ;
An (lis I am say dal I'm !j;o me 'round much,

An I'am lak evi i-y jilace on ole f'anadaw,
lint no i)lace I'm tin an no place I'm see

Dats suit lak ole I'uijc'ville (lis poor habitant.

I'll

Off On De Big Hunt

Mfulioe yon'II know Batonle Loverin, lie was great man for hunt,

He's editor on paper, print him too —

lie's ffet him up some leetle crowd eaHed de Reporter Club^

Hat, was crazy for hunt jus'^ same's he do.

Dey was brave mans dat jfo for hunt in bi^ norf bush.

An' if dey meet some wolf dey'lT have his far ;

Mabee dey'Il hunt for otlier tinj^ — mabee some moose — some bear —

But mos'ly on some deer, dey'Il look for her.

" llo's j{i»l him up Hiimi* loollc crowd rullvJ do Uopurlor C"Ud).'

De Sports ((at njak' ft up dis club «ley wns jfood boys for sure,
Von wait on no [11 lole you who (U'v be :
Olio man ho lir in Ml^rin town, he's sell hlin lot iiitu'hine,
Ile'8 go for hunt, lie'^ UHUie l*lill llulladee ;

r->:.

An' oth(M* man dats lif close by de sport called llalludee,
Is fro liini lonjf t,o have iiini little spree,

lies lif liini round on Phllli|)sville, he's work liiui on de farm,
He was good man for catch de fish — dats Ivipi-ipi-lee.

Tree mans de come from county town down on de ole St. Ijawveii'i',

l)<*ts Island City — Hrockville jail she's dere,

Suppose you di.n't walk on him sti'aijyht, but do de pace dats crook,

I II tole you dis, my frien', you for tak' care.

Well, dats alrijirht — on»i chap he's come. I tink he nam's (Jeifjer,

lie's mana^'e railway dats lak bla/es }fo ;

He's train it run on week-day sure — well dats in summer tarn —

On winter tam some day she's stop de snow.

Den dero was Hillee Dawson, cook, and (.'ossitt, bcss dop; man,

An' Charlie Stayjr !>*' '^ 'un d(! whole bizness,

Dey's call on him de Hutcher Hoy, for why I no can tell —

Mabee lu^'s lak hinj pound of pork I {fness.

An' den^ was i)oetor Coon, he's come from Klffin, too,

He's jjn aloufr s'u' tak him two ree j)ill.

An' it s' nie mans was h(>me-si» ■ an' want it sonu* physic,

De {»ood doctor she'll cure him of dat ill.

Hul jus" you 'vait an' I will tole you 'bout };ood nnm dat jjo,

He's name Ki^onolds, his preacher by de trade.

He ffo liim witl; de lM)y8 to have souh frn an' cotch liim deer,

An' nmbee keep it from de bad wo' ' raid.

An' if some nnin;« lie's yet in fljrht witn bear or carib:o,

In camp he keep him from it tell a I c.

An' if <i«'y il* n^-t scalp it ai! I)y j^-reat bijf injuii mauM,

Why, iiell nu»k' dat ah if^n nelore dey» die,

Well may dey jjo, IN>portei oia''s lie's jjot nice tinjf for tak' —

'Jreat bijf friedcake, you ne> ;• m\\\ de beat.

He's yot him bak' it up ^n Hickey's corner, called Slack's place,

He's big wan, as much as any mans can cHt.

He's tak' alony with him tree bushel big white beun,

(Ireat pile of stuff, de lak' you never saw

Of course, I don't say dat de nuuj it* drink him very much,

Itut tink ho should have k' him whiskey blunc.

I L'C.

Well vliiskcy hhine it is ^oo»l tin«»' wVn mans is tak' tlv sick,

For sure, 'rio j^ood tinjif for to imve in eaiiip;

Mnhco some sport his tnk' de sick, he's eotcii de stomach aeiie,

Maliee dat fisher boy lie's tak' de cramp.

Well, dats aliiffht, an' all I'm say about dat hunt elul) now,

Dey vill stay one week an' mal)ee dey'll stay two —

Von wait yoursef jus' leetle while till editor eouu- l)a<;k,.

Dc whoU' bil;ne^s den he will tole to you.

iyii ■• sjt'.'J

?Wii«w*:ft

S?l*tt