NRLF 
 
 Rihrv Verse 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
200*1 >THI800H 
 
 T 
 
The Hoosier Book 
 
 ei . 
 
 nei ,oor t ~( 
 
 Containing Poems in Dialect 
 
 \-*Mv.o J jjiHM-al/j-tasoa JI^X 
 
 By 
 
 James Whitcomb Riley 
 
 f/ 
 
 , , > 
 
 Collected and Arranged by 
 
 Hewitt Hanson Howland 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
COPYRIGHT 
 
 1887, 1891, 1893, 1894, 1896, 1897, 1900, 1902 
 
 1903, 1904, 1907, 1909, 1913 
 
 JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1916 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 HrnorjjfrfW 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNWORTH & CO. 
 
 BOOK MANUFACTUREBt 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y. 
 
TO 
 JOHNTY 
 
 784916 
 
OT 
 TrtHOI 
 
Dfli bsd ,biow 
 sfanow ,2iodsi ^r 
 
 *to noianbxo orfj T.. ?,ifij } 
 -130 srlj a-isrh Ji io >bi;l srfi 1370 bsajsalti^ib 10 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 When James Whitcomb Riley was a very small boy, too 
 young to read, he fell in love at first sight with a book, and 
 like all intense lovers he at once desired to possess the 
 object of his affection. By thrift and careful hoarding he 
 got together pennies equal to the price, and the little red 
 and gold "poetry book" fell into his eager, outstretched, 
 freckled hands. 
 
 Now he did not love this early treasure for what it con 
 tained, but for its look, for the feel of it in his hand, as he 
 afterward said. These same emotions were stirred when 
 in 1911 he was presented with the first copy of The Lock 
 erbie Book. "I like its look and the feel of it," he said, and 
 thereupon repeated the story of his first literary love. 
 
 So it came about that, at the proper time, he suggested 
 and even urged a companion volume, to contain only dialect 
 verse, and with that spontaneous genius for nomenclature 
 which was so remarkably his, instantly christened the new 
 collection : The Hoosier Book The Hoosier Book of 
 Rilcy Verse. This was but a short time after his return to 
 Indianapolis from a winter in the South, and only a few 
 months before he departed on that last great journey to the 
 land where it is always afternoon. 
 
 His never imposed but always unerring taste, his gentle 
 criticism, his tactful suggestions, all so helpful in the prep 
 aration of The Lockerbie Book, have been wanting in the 
 selection of poems for this volume, but the poems them- 
 
selves, every line, every word, had the final touch of his 
 careful hand. 
 
 Whether he is smiling over my labors, wondering at the 
 inclusion of this or the exclusion of that, pleased over the 
 order here or displeased over the lack of it there the cer 
 tainty of one thing cheers me : he would like the look of 
 The Hoosier Book and the feel of it in his hand. 
 
 Mr. Riley s verse written in the native tongue of his 
 native state is the verse that brought him first into public 
 regard, is the verse by which he is most widely known, and 
 on which his claim to immortality will unquestionably rest. 
 
 Finer stanzas he may have written in the English of Eliz 
 abeth, but in the idiom of the Hoosier he has sung the 
 
 songs of a people. 
 
 
 
 n 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
;OOH >13.I?/ 
 

 rfT 
 
 r THE :S 
 
 HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 
 NEGHBORLY POEMS 
 
 My Philosofy 
 
 I AIN T, ner don t p tend to be, 
 Much posted on philosofy; 
 But thare is times, when all alone, 
 I work out idees of my own. 
 And of these same thare is a few 
 I d like to jest refer to you 
 Pervidin that you don t object 
 To listen clos t and rickollect. 
 
 I allus argy that a man 
 Who does about the best he can 
 Is plenty good enugh to suit 
 This lower mundane institute 
 No matter ef his daily walk 
 Is subject fer his neghbor s talk, 
 And critic-minds of ev ry whim 
 Jest all git up and go fer him ! 
 i 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I knovved a feller onc t that had 
 The yeller-janders mighty bad, 
 And each and ev ry friend he d meet 
 Would stop and give him some receet 
 Fer cuorin of em. But he d say 
 He kindo thought they d go away 
 Without no medicin , and boast 
 That he d git well without one doste. 
 
 He kep a-yellerin* on and they 
 Perdictin that he d die some day 
 Before he knowed it! Tuck his bed, 
 The feller did, and lost his head, 
 And wundered in his mind a spell 
 Then rallied, and, at last, got well ; 
 But ev ry friend that said he d die 
 Went back on him eternally ! 
 
 It s natchurl enugh, I guess, 
 
 When some gits more and some gits less, 
 
 Fer them-uns on the slimmest side 
 
 To claim it ain t a fare divide ; 
 
 And I ve knowed some to lay and wait, 
 
 And git up soon, and set up late, 
 
 To ketch some feller they could hate 
 
 Fer goin at a faster gait. 
 
 The signs is bad when folks commence 
 A-findin fault with Providence, 
 And balkin cause the earth don t shake 
 At ev ry prancin step they take. 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 No man is grate tel he can see 
 How less than little he would be 
 Ef stripped to self, and stark and bare 
 He hung his sign out anywhare. 
 
 My doctern is to lay aside 
 
 Contensions, and be satisfied : 
 
 Jest do your best, and praise er blame 
 
 That f oilers that, counts jest the same. 
 
 I ve allus noticed grate success 
 
 Is mixed with troubles, more or less, 
 
 And it s the man who does the best 
 
 That gits more kicks than all the rest. 
 
 \>m)"Y-v>YY vAT ^ 
 
 2 The Clover 
 
 i-*n3 -.!) MBS ^kifrj-aUO flUD Q 
 OME sings of the lilly, and daisy, and rose, 
 And the pansies and pinks that the Summertime throws 
 In the green grassy lap of the medder that lays 
 Blinkin up at the skyes through the sunshiney days ; 
 But what is the lilly and all of the rest 
 Of the flowers, to a man with a hart in his brest 
 That was dipped brimmin full of the honey and dew 
 Of the sweet clover-blossoms his babyhood knew? 
 
 I never set eyes on a clover-field now, 
 
 Er fool round a stable, er climb in the mow, 
 
 But my childhood comes back jest as clear and as plane 
 
 As the smell of the clover I m sniffin again; 
 
THE IIOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And I wundcr away in a bare-footed dream, 
 \Vharc I tangle my toes in the blossoms that gleam 
 With the dew of the dawn of the morning of love 
 Ere it wept ore the graves that I m weepin above. 
 
 And so I love clover it seems like a part 
 
 Of the sacerdest sorrows and joys of my hart; 
 
 And wharever it blossoms, oh, thare let me bow 
 
 And thank the good God as I m thankin Him now ; 
 
 And I pray to Him still fer the stren th when I die, 
 
 To go out in the clover and tell it good-bye, 
 
 And lovin ly nestle my face in its bloom 
 
 While my soul slips away on a breth of pur fume. 
 
 The Tree-Toad 
 
 CUR OUS-LIKE," said the tree-toad, 
 
 
 
 
 ve twittered fer rain all day; 
 And I got up soon, 
 And hollered tel noon 
 But the sun, hit blazed away, 
 
 Tel I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole, 
 Weary at hart, and sick at soul ! 
 
 Dozed away fer an hour, 
 And I tackled the thing ag in : 
 And I sung, and sung, 
 Tel I knowed my lung 
 Was jest about give in; 
 
 And then, thinks I, ef hit don t rain now, 
 They s nothin* in singin , anyhow I 
 4 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Onc t in a while some farmer 
 Would come a-drivin* past; 
 
 And he d hear my cry, 
 
 And stop and sigh 
 Tel I jest laid back, at last, 
 
 And I hollered rain tel I thought my th oat 
 
 Would bust wide open at ever note ! 
 
 "But I fetched her ! O / fetched her ! 
 Cause a little while ago, 
 As I kindo set, 
 With one eye shet, 
 And a-singin soft and low, 
 
 A voice drapped down on my fevered brain, 
 A-sayin , Ef you ll jest hush I ll rain! " 
 
 4 The Old Swimmin -Hole 
 
 OH ! the old swimmin -hole ! whare the crick so still and 
 deep 
 
 Looked like a baby-river that was laying half asleep, 
 And the gurgle of the worter round the drift jest below 
 Sounded like the laugh of something we onc t ust to know 
 Before we could remember anything but the eyes 
 Of the angels lookin* out as we left Paradise; 
 But the merry days of youth is beyond our controle, 
 And it s hard to part ferever with the old swimmin -hole. 
 
 Oh! the old swimmin -hole! In the happy days of yore, 
 When I ust to lean above it on the old sickamore, 
 Oh ! it showed me a face in its warm sunny tide 
 That gazed back at me so gay and glorified, 
 
 5 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 It made me love myself, as I leaped to caress 
 
 My shadder smilin up at me with sich tenderness. 
 
 But them days is past and gone, and old Time s tuck his toll 
 
 From the old man come back to the old swimmin -hole. 
 
 Oh 1 the old swimmin -hole ! In the long, lazy days 
 When the humdrum of school made so many run-a-ways, 
 How plesant was the jurney down the old dusty lane, 
 Whare the tracks of our bare feet was all printed so plane 
 You could tell by the dent of the heel and the sole 
 They was lots o fun on hands at the old swimmin -hole. 
 But the lost joys is past! Let your tears in sorrow roll 
 Like the rain that ust to dapple up the old swimmin -hole. 
 
 Thare the bullrushes growed, and the cattails so tall, 
 And the sunshine and shadder fell over it all ; 
 And it mottled the worter with amber and gold 
 Tel the glad lilies rocked in the ripples that rolled; 
 And the snake-feeder s four gauzy wings fluttered by 
 Like the ghost of a daisy dropped out of the sky, 
 Or a wownded apple-blossom in the breeze s controle 
 As it cut acrost some orchurd to rds the old swimmin -hole. 
 
 Oh ! the old swimmin -hole ! When I last saw the place, 
 The scenes was all changed, like the change in my face; 
 The bridge of the railroad now crosses the spot 
 Whare the old divin -log lays sunk and fergot. 
 And I stray down the banks whare the trees ust to be - 
 ,But never again will theyr shade shelter me! 
 And I wish in my sorrow I could strip to the soul, 
 And dive off in my grave like the old swimmin -hole. 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 5 How It Happened 
 
 GOT to thin kin of her both her parunts dead and 
 
 gone 
 
 And all her sisters married off, and none but her and John 
 A-livin all alone thare in that lonesome sorto way, 
 And him a blame old bachelor, confirmder ev ry day ! 
 I d knowed em all, from childern, and theyr daddy from 
 
 the time 
 
 He settled in the neghborhood, and hadn t ary a dime 
 Er dollar, when he married, f er to start housekeepin on ! 
 So I got to thinkin of her both her parunts dead and gone ! 
 
 I got to thinkin of her ; and a-wundern what she done 
 That all her sisters kep a-gittin married, one by one, 
 And her without no chances and the best girl of the pack 
 A old maid, with her hands, you might say, tied behind her 
 
 back! 
 
 And Mother, too, afore she died, she ust to jest take on, 
 When none of em wuz left, you know, but Evaline and 
 
 John, 
 And jest declare to goodness at the young men must be 
 
 bline 
 To not see what a wife they d git ef they got Evaline I 
 
 I got to thinkin of her: In my great affliction she 
 Wuz sich a comfert to us, and so kind and neghborly, 
 She d come, and leave her housework, fer to he p out little 
 
 Jane, 
 And talk of her own mother at she d never see again 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They d sometimes cry together though, fer the most part, 
 
 she 
 
 Would have the child so rickonciled and happy-like at we 
 Felt lonesomer n ever when she d putt her bonnet on 
 And say she d railly haf to be a-gittin back to John ! 
 
 I got to thinkin of her, as I say, and more and more 
 I d think of her dependence, and the burdens at she bore, 
 Her parunts both a-bein dead, and all her sisters gone 
 And married off, and her a-livin* thare alone with John 
 You might say jest a-toilin and a-slavin out her life 
 Fer a man at hadn t pride enugh to git hisse f a wife 
 Less some one married Evaline and packed her off some 
 
 day! 
 So I got to thinkin of her and It happened thataway. 
 
 6 Thoughts fer the Discuraged Farmer 
 fbn& ofii Jr/H Jild ,won>3! r;ov ,ti j{ sov/ rn^ 10 orion rtsff 
 
 T^HE summer winds is sniffin round the bloomin locus 
 
 trees ; 
 
 And the clover in the pastur is a big day fer the bees, 
 And they been a-swiggin honey, above board and on the 
 
 sly, 
 
 Tel they stutter in theyr buzzin and stagger as they fly. 
 The flicker on the fence-rail pears to jest spit on his wings 
 And roll up his feathers, by the sassy way he sings ; 
 And the hoss-fly is a-whettin -up his forelegs fer biz, 
 And the off-mare is a-switchin all of her tale they is. 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 You can hear the blackbirds jawin as they f oiler up the 
 
 plow 
 Oh, theyr bound to git theyr brekfast, and theyr not a-carin 
 
 how; 
 So they quarrel in the furries, and they quarrel on the 
 
 wing 
 
 But theyr peaceabler in pot-pies than any other thing : 
 And it s when I git my shotgun drawed up in stiddy rest, 
 She s as full of tribbelation as a yeller-jacket s nest; 
 And a few shots before dinner, when the sun s a-shinin 
 
 right, 
 
 Seems to kindo -sorto sharpen up a feller s appetite ! 
 
 .nov 
 
 They s been a heap o rain, but the sun s out to-day, 
 
 And the clouds of the wet spell is all cleared away, 
 
 And the woods is all the greener, and the grass is greener 
 
 still; 
 
 It may rain again to-morry, but I don t think it will." 
 Some says the crops is ruined, and the corn s drownded 
 
 out, 
 
 And propha-sy the wheat will be a failure, without doubt ; 
 But the kind Providence that has never failed us yet, 
 Will be on hands onc t more at the leventh hour, I bet ! 
 
 Does the medder-lark complane, as he swims high and dry 
 Through the waves of the wind and the blue of the sky? 
 Does the quail set up and whissel in a disappinted way, 
 Er hang his head in silunce, and sorrow all the day? 
 Is the chipmuck s health a-failin ? Does he walk, er does 
 
 he run? 
 Don t the buzzards ooze around up thare jest like they ve 
 
 allus done? 
 
 9 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Is they anything the matter with the rooster s lungs er 
 
 voice? 
 Ort a mortul be complanin* when dumb animals rejoice? 
 
 Then let us, one and all, be contentud with our lot; 
 The June is here this mornin , and the sun is shining hot. 
 Oh ! let us fill our harts up with the glory of the day, 
 And banish ev ry doubt and care and sorrow fur away! 
 Whatever be our station, with Providence fer guide, 
 Sich fine circumstances ort to make us satisfied ; 
 Fer the world is full of roses, and the roses full of dew, 
 And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips fer me and 
 you. 
 
 A Summer s Day 
 
 THE Summer s put the idy in 
 My head that I m a boy ag in ; 
 And all around s so bright and gay 
 I want to put my team away, 
 And jest git out whare I can lay 
 And soak my hide full of the day! 
 But work is work, and must be done 
 Yit, as I work, I have my fun, 
 Jest" f ancyin these f urries here 
 Is childhood s paths onc t more so dear : 
 And so I walk through medder-lands, 
 
 And country lanes, and swampy trails 
 Whare long bullrushes bresh my hands ; 
 And, tilted on the ridered rails 
 
 10 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Of deadnin fences, "Old Bob White" 
 Whissels his name in high delight, 
 And whirrs away. I wunder still, 
 Whichever way a boy s feet will 
 Whare trees has fell, with tangled tops 
 
 Whare dead leaves shakes, I stop f er breth, 
 Heerin the acorn as it drops 
 
 H istin my chin up still as deth, 
 And watchin clos t, with upturned eyes, 
 The tree where Mr. Squirrel tries 
 To hide hisse f above the limb, 
 But lets his own tale tell on him. 
 I wunder on in deeper glooms 
 
 Git hungry, hearin female cries 
 From old farm-houses, whare perfumes 
 
 Of harvest dinners seems to rise 
 And ta nt a feller, hart and brane, 
 With memories he can t explane. 
 
 m a^bis -HI* Tic qhb teat, bnA 
 
 I wunder through the underbresh, 
 
 Whare pig-tracks, pintin to rds the crick, 
 Is picked and printed in the fresh 
 
 Black bottom-lands, like wimmern pick 
 Theyr pie-crusts with a fork, some way, 
 When bakin fer camp-meetin" day. 
 I wunder on and on and on, 
 Tel my gray hair and beard is gone, 
 And ev ry wrinkle on my brow 
 Is rubbed clean out and shaddered now 
 With curls as brown and fare and fine 
 As tenderls of the wild grape-vine 
 
 .olmr HV// LnA 
 II 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 That ust to climb the highest tree 
 To keep the ripest ones fer me. 
 I wunder still, and here I am 
 Wadin* the ford below the dam 
 The worter chucklin round my knee 
 
 At hornet-welt and bramble-scratch, 
 And me a-slippin crost to see 
 
 Ef Tyner s plums is ripe, and size 
 The old man s wortermelon-patch, 
 
 With juicy mouth and drouthy eyes. 
 Then, after sich a. day of mirth 
 And happiness as worlds is wurth 
 
 So tired that Heaven seems nigh about, 
 The sweetest tiredness on earth 
 
 Is to git home and flatten out 
 So tired you can t lay flat enugh, 
 And sorto wish that you could spred 
 Out like molasses on the bed, 
 And jest drip off the aidges in 
 The dreams that never comes ag in. 
 
 ^vbha^irlt .ajp ot niJfiiq.^jbcit-^rq vtmtW 
 
 8 A Hymb of Faith 
 
 OTHOU that doth all things devise 
 j And fashon fer the best, 
 He p us who sees with mortul eyes 
 To overlook the rest. 
 
 They s times, of course, we grope in doubt, 
 
 And in afflictions sore; 
 So knock the louder, Lord, without, 
 
 And we ll unlock the door. 
 
 12 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Make us to feel, when times looks bad 
 
 And tears in pitty melts, 
 Thou wast the only he p we had 
 
 When they was nothin else. 
 
 Death comes alike to ev ry man 
 That ever was horned on earth ; 
 
 Then let us do the best we can 
 To live fer all life s wurth. 
 
 Ef storms and tempusts dred to see 
 Makes black the heavens ore, 
 
 They done the same in Galilee 
 Two thousand years before. 
 
 But after all, the golden sun 
 Poured out its floods on them 
 
 That watched and waited fer the One 
 Then borned in Bethlyham. 
 
 Also, the star of holy writ 
 Made noonday of the night, 
 
 Whilse other stars that looked at it 
 Was envious with delight. 
 
 The sages then in wtirship bowed, 
 
 r- 1- e 
 
 r rom ev ry clime so fare ; 
 
 O, sinner, think of that glad crowd 
 That congergated thare ! 
 
 They was content to fall in ranks 
 With One that knowed the way 
 
 From good old Jurden s stormy banks 
 Clean up to Jedgmunt Day. 
 13 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 No matter, then, how all is mixed 
 
 In our near-sighted eyes, 
 All things is fer the best, and fixed 
 
 Out straight in Paradise. 
 
 Then take things as God sends em here, 
 
 And, ef we live er die, 
 Be more and more contenteder, 
 
 Without a-astin* why. 
 
 O, Thou that doth all things devise 
 
 And fashon fer the best, 
 He p us who sees with mortul eyes 
 
 To overlook the rest. 
 
 p Wortermelon Time 
 
 OLD wortermelon time is a-comin round ag in, 
 And they ain t no man a-livin* any tickleder n me, 
 Fer the way I hanker after wortermelons is a sin 
 Which is the why and wharefore, as you can plainly see. 
 
 f> y/i"!f? <:};[,- t!i- /r ni nfjffi soiiKS 9fIT 
 Oh ! it s in the sandy soil wortermelons does the best, 
 
 And it s thare they ll lay and waller in the sunshine and 
 
 the dew 
 Tel they wear all the green streaks clean off of theyr 
 
 breast ; 
 
 And you bet I ain t a-findin any fault with them ; air 
 you? 
 
 -.yen inrrrnigh^T /ot *\n nr,y!j 
 14 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They ain t no better thing in the vegetable line ; 
 
 And they don t need much tendin , as ev ry farmer 
 knows ; 
 
 And when theyr ripe and ready fer to pluck from the vine, 
 I want to say to you theyr the best fruit that grows. 
 
 It s some likes the yeller-core, and some likes the red, 
 And it s some says "The Little Galiforny" is the best; 
 
 But the sweetest slice of all I ever wedged in my head, 
 Is the old "Edingburg Mounting-sprout," of the West. 
 
 You don t want no punkins nigh your wortermelon vines 
 Cause, some-way-another, they ll spile your melons, 
 shore ; 
 
 I ve seed em taste like punkins, from the core to the rines, 
 Which may be a fact you have heerd of before. 
 
 But your melons that s raised right and tended to with 
 
 care, 
 You can walk around amongst em with a parent s pride 
 
 and joy, 
 And thump em on the heads with as fatherly a air 
 
 As ef each one of them was your little girl er boy. 
 f rrifisu-)-jj Jif^ia silt bnz /iiHljsl-s wob bfiR ^nb julj bnA 
 I joy in my hart jest to hear that rippin sound 
 
 When you split one down the back and jolt the halves in 
 
 two, 
 
 And the friends you love the best is gethered all around 
 And you says unto your sweethart, "Oh, here s the core 
 fer you !" 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And I like to slice em up in big pieces fer em all, 
 
 Espeshally the childern, and watch theyr high delight 
 
 As one by one the rines with theyr pink notches falls, 
 
 And they holler fer some more, with unquenched appe 
 tite. 
 
 Boys takes to it natchurl, and I like to see em eat 
 
 A slice of wortermelon s like a frenchharp in theyr hands, 
 And when they "saw" it through theyr mouth sich music 
 
 can t be beat 
 
 Cause it s music both the sperit and the stummick under 
 stands. 
 
 Oh, they s more in wortermelons than the purty-colored 
 
 meat, 
 And the overflowin sweetness of the wortcr squshed 
 
 betwixt 
 
 The up ard and the down ard motions of a feller s teeth, 
 And it s the taste of ripe old age and juicy childhood 
 mixed. 
 
 Fer I never taste a melon but my thoughts flies away 
 To the summertime of youth ; and again I see the dawn, 
 
 And the fadin afternoon of the long summer day, 
 And the dusk and dew a-fallin , and the night a-cotnin 
 on. 
 
 And thare s the corn around us, and the lispin leaves and 
 
 trees, 
 
 And the stars a-peekin down on us as still as silver mice, 
 And us boys in the wortermelons on our hands and knees, 
 And the new-moon hangin ore us like a yeller-cored 
 slice. 
 
 16 
 
THE HOOSIKR BOOK 
 
 Oh ! it s wortermelon time is a-comin round ag in, 
 And they ain t no man a-livin any tickleder n me, 
 
 Per the way I hanker after wortermelons is a sin 
 
 Which is the why and wharefore, as you can plainly see. 
 
 if! bus. no -ei.-l- 
 
 t mo7 3f!.t lo fcbaaoi e>ilJ }Q lo?.?,rn v^rn ,-^auri 
 /o When the Frost Is on the Punkin 
 
 WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder s in 
 the shock, 
 
 And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin turkey- 
 cock, 
 
 And the clackin of the guineys, and the cluckin of the 
 hens, 
 
 And the rooster s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence ; 
 
 O, it s then s the times a feller is a-feelin at his best, 
 
 With the risin sun to greet him from a night of peaceful 
 rest, 
 
 As he leaves the house, bare-headed, and goes out to feed 
 the stock, 
 
 When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder s in the 
 shock. 
 
 They s something kindo* harty-like about the atmusfere 
 When the heat of summer s over and the coolin* fall is 
 
 here 
 Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the 
 
 trees, 
 And the mumble of the hummin -birds and buzzin* of the 
 
 bees; 
 
 17 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But the air s so appetizin ; and the landscape through the 
 
 haze 
 
 Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days 
 Is a pictur that no painter has the colorin to mock 
 When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder s in the 
 
 shock. 
 
 The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn, 
 
 And the raspin of the tangled leaves, as golden as the 
 
 morn; 
 
 The stubble in the furries kindo lonesome-like, but still 
 A-preachin sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill ; 
 The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed ; 
 The hosses in t.heyr stalls below the clover overhead ! 
 O, it sets my hart a-clickin* like the tickin of a clock, 
 When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder s in the 
 
 shock ! 
 
 Then your apples all is getherd, and the ones a feller keeps 
 Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps ; 
 And your cider-makin s over, and your wimmern-folks is 
 
 through 
 With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and 
 
 saussage, too ! . . . 
 
 I don t know how to tell it but ef sich a thing could be 
 As the Angels wantin boardin , and they d call around on 
 
 me 
 
 I d want to commodate em all the whole-indurin* flock 
 When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder s in the 
 
 shock ! 
 
 18 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 // On the Death of Little Mahala 
 Ash era ft 
 
 "TITTLE Haly! Little Haty!" cheeps the robin in the 
 
 LJL tree ; 
 
 "Little Haly !" sighs the clover, "Little Haly !" moans the 
 
 bee; 
 
 "Little Haly ! Little Haly !" calls the killdeer at twilight ; 
 And the katydids and crickets hollers "Haly !" all the night. 
 
 :/- -: ,"j bn/ 
 
 The sunflowers and the hollyhawks droops over the garden 
 
 fence ; 
 The old path down the garden walks still holds her foot 
 
 prints dents ; 
 And the well-sweep s swingin bucket seems to wait fer her 
 
 to come 
 And start it on its wortery errant down the old bee-gum. 
 
 The beehives all is quiet ; and the little Jersey steer, 
 When any one comes nigh it, acts so lonesome-like and 
 
 queer ; 
 
 And the little Banty chickens kindo cutters faint and low, 
 Like the hand that now was f eedin em was one they didn t 
 
 know. 
 .; bnirbd .}}>] w\ol o<- Loorfblrfb ^m }oo!imiJ I z A f 
 
 They s sorrow in the wavin leaves of all the apple-trees; 
 And sorrow in the harvest-sheaves, and sorrow in the 
 
 breeze ; 
 
 And sorrow in the twitter of the swallers round the shed ; 
 And all the song her redbird sings is "Little Haly s dead !" 
 a ^Ij } (> jeom rrfj ni>Inidt-i; fonA 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The medder pears to miss her, and the pathway through 
 
 the grass, 
 Whare the dewdrops ust to kiss her little bare feet as she 
 
 passed ; 
 And the old pin in the gate-post seems to kindo -sorto 
 
 doubt 
 That Haly s little sunburnt hands ll ever pull it out. 
 
 Did her father er her mother ever love her more n me, 
 Er her sisters er her brother prize her love more tendurly? 
 I question and what answer ? only tears, and tears alone, 
 And ev ry neghbor s eyes is full o tear-drops as my own. 
 
 "Little Haly ! Little Haly !" cheeps the robin in the tree ; 
 "Little Haly!" sighs the clover, "Little Haly!" moans the 
 
 bee; 
 
 "Little Haly ! Little Haly !" calls the killdeer at twilight, 
 And the katydids and crickets hollers "Haly !" all the night. 
 
 12 The Mulberry Tree 
 
 f jibil) vsnfj rjno a,sw nr/ ^nliwj"} si . n v/oii Jin t biiJJii o*i! j/i;. L 
 
 OIT S many s the scenes which is dear to my mind 
 j As I think of my childhood so long left behind ; 
 The home of my birth, with its old puncheon-floor, 
 And the bright morning-glorys that growed round the door ; 
 The warped clabboard roof whare the rain it run off 
 Into streams of sweet dreams as I laid in the loft, 
 Countin all of the joys that was dearest to me, 
 And a-thinkin the most of the mulberry tree. 
 
 20 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And to-day as I dream, with both eyes wide-awake, 
 I can see the old tree, and its limbs as they shake, 
 And the long purple berries that rained on the ground 
 Whare the pastur was bald whare we trommpt it around. 
 And again, peekin up through the thick leafy shade, 
 I can see the glad smiles of the friends when I strayed 
 With my little bare feet from my own mother s knee 
 To foller them off to the mulberry tree. 
 
 Leanin up in the forks, I can see the old rail, 
 And the boy climbin up it, claw, tooth, and toe-nail, 
 And in fancy can hear, as he spits on his hands, 
 The ring of his laugh and the rip of his pants. 
 But that rail led to glory, as certin and shore 
 As I ll never climb thare by that rout any more 
 What was all the green lauruls of Fame unto me, 
 With my brows in the boughs of the mulberry tree ! 
 
 Then it s who can fergit the old mulberry tree 
 
 That he knowed in the days when his thoughts was as free 
 
 As the flutterin* wings of the birds that flew out 
 
 Of the tall wavin tops as the boys come about? 
 
 O, a crowd of my memories, laughin and gay, 
 
 Is a-climbin the fence of that pastur to-day, 
 
 And a-pantin with joy, as us boys ust to be, 
 
 They go racin acrost fer the mulberry tree. 
 
 ;Xv7fi biiTecv/ nua srh irjd ,n9vr,-?rf eln oJ ?3vo ^m borrm* I 
 
 rji ; o>tif r >hob %fl lift A 
 
 bwJ 
 
 ii 3*)cf J nbsrf Ji }y .trio l>y//cfft -i973n I) g9^9 xi bnA 
 ai 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 ij To My Old Friend, William 
 Leachman 
 
 FER forty year and better you have been a friend to me, 
 Through days of sore afflictions and dire adversity, 
 You allus had a kind word of counsul to impart, 
 Which was like a healin intrnent to the sorrow of my hart. 
 
 When I burried my first womern, William Leachman, it was 
 
 you 
 
 Had the only consolation that I could listen to 
 Fer I knowed you had gone through it and had rallied 
 
 from the blow, 
 
 And when you said I d do the same, I knowed you d ort to 
 
 , 
 know. 
 
 But that time I ll long remember; how I wundered here 
 
 and thare 
 
 Through the settin -room and kitchen, and out in the open 
 
 air 
 And the snowflakes whirlin , whirling and the fields a 
 
 frozen glare, 
 And the neghbors sleds and wagons congergatin ev ry- 
 
 whare. 
 
 I turned my eyes to rds heaven, but the sun was hid away ; 
 I turned my eyes to rds earth again, but all was cold and 
 
 gray ; 
 And the clock, like ice a-crackin , clickt the icy hours in 
 
 two 
 And my eyes d never thawed out ef it hadn t been f er you ! 
 
 22 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 We set thare by the smoke-house me and you out thare 
 
 alone 
 
 Me a-thinkin you a-talkin in a soothin undertone 
 You a-talkin me a-thinkin of the summers long ago, 
 And a-writin "Marthy Marthy" with my finger in the 
 
 snow ! 
 
 William Leachman, I can see you jest as plane as I could 
 
 then ; 
 And your hand is on my shoulder, and you rouse me up 
 
 again ; 
 .And I see the tears a-drippin from your own eyes, as you 
 
 say: 
 "Be rickonciled and bear it we but linger f er a day !" 
 
 At the last Old Settlers Meetin we went j intly, you and 
 
 me 
 
 Your bosses and my w r agon, as you wanted it to be ; 
 And sence I can remember, from the time we ve neghbored 
 
 here, 
 In all sich friendly actions you have double-done your 
 
 sheer. 
 
 It was better than the meetin , too, that nine-mile talk we 
 
 had 
 Of the times when we first settled here and travel was so 
 
 bad; 
 When we had to go on boss-back, and sometimes on 
 
 "Shanks s mare," 
 And "blaze" a road fer them behind that had to travel 
 
 thare. 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And now we was a-trottin long a level gravel pike, 
 In a big two-boss road-wagon, jest as easy as you like 
 Two of us on the front reat, and our wimmern-folks be 
 hind, 
 A-settin in theyr Winsor-cheers in perfect peace of mind ! 
 
 And we pinted out old landmarks, nearly faded out of 
 
 sight : 
 Thare they ust to rob the stage-coach ; thare Gash Morgan 
 
 had the fight 
 With the old stag-deer that pronged him how he battled 
 
 fer his life, 
 And lived to prove the story by the handle of his knife. 
 
 Thare the first griss-mill was put up in the Settlement, 
 
 and we 
 
 Had tuck our grindin to it in the Fall of Forty-three 
 When we tuck our rifles with us, techin elbows all the way, 
 And a-stickin right together ev ry minute, night and day. 
 
 Thare ust to stand the tavern that they called the "Trav 
 elers Rest," 
 
 And thare, beyent the covered bridge, "The Counterfitters 
 Nest" 
 
 Whare they claimed the house was ha nted that a man was 
 murdered thare, 
 
 And hurried underneath the floor, er round the place some- 
 whare. 
 
 And the old Plank-road they laid along in Fifty-one er 
 
 two 
 You know we talked about the times when the old road 
 
 was new: 
 
 24 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 How "Uncle Sam" put down that road and never taxed 
 
 the State 
 Was a problem, don t you rickollect, we couldn t dimon- 
 
 strate? 
 
 , MTI oi jlaPgi Vji ifo odi nariw *%* b!o srfa 2! 
 
 Ways was devius, William Leachman, that me and you has 
 
 past; 
 
 But as I found you true at first, I find you true at last; 
 And, now the time s a-comin mighty nigh our jurney s end, 
 I want to throw wide open all my soul to you, my friend. 
 
 With the stren th of all my bein , and the heat of hart and 
 
 brane, 
 
 And ev ry livin drop of blood in artery and vane, 
 I love you and respect you, and I venerate your name, 
 Fer the name of William Leachman and True Manhood s 
 
 jest the same ! 
 
 14 My Fiddle 
 
 MY fiddle? Well, I kindo* keep her handy, don t you 
 know! 
 Though I ain t so much inclined to tromp the strings and 
 
 switch the bow 
 
 As I was before the timber of my elbows got so dry, 
 And my fingers was more limber-like and caperish and 
 spry ; 
 Yit I can plonk and plunk and plink, 
 
 And tune her up and play, 
 And jest lean back and laugh and wink 
 At ev ry rainy day ! 
 25 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 My playin s only middlin tunes I picked up when a boy 
 The kindo -sorto fiddlin that the folks calls "cordaroy" ; 
 "The Old Fat Gal," and "Rye-straw," and "My Sailyor s on 
 
 the Sea," 
 
 Is the old cowtillions I "saw" when the ch ice is left to me ; 
 And so I plunk and plonk and plink, 
 
 And rosum-up my bow 
 And play the tunes that makes you think 
 The devil s in your toe ! 
 
 I was allus a romancin , do-less boy, to tell the truth, 
 A-fiddlin and a-dancin , and a-wastin of my youth, 
 And a-actin and a-cuttin -up all sorts o silly pranks 
 That wasn t worth a botton of anybody s thanks I 
 But they tell me, when I ust to plink 
 
 And plonk and plunk and play, 
 My music seemed to have the kink 
 O drivin cares away ! 
 
 That s how this here old fiddle s won my hart s indurin* 
 
 love ! 
 From the strings acrost her middle, to the schreechin* keys 
 
 above 
 From her "apern," over "bridge," and to the ribbon round 
 
 her throat, 
 
 She s a wooin , cooin* pigeon, singin* "Love me" ev ry note ! 
 And so I pat her neck, and plink 
 
 Her strings with lovin hands, 
 And, list nin clos t, I sometimes think 
 She kindo* understands ! 
 
 26 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 /5 Erasmus Wilson 
 
 T> AS WILSON, I respect you, cause 
 
 * * You re common, like you allus was 
 Afore you went to town and s prised 
 The world by gittin "reckonized," 
 And yit perservin , as I say, 
 Your common hoss-sense ev ry way I 
 And when that name o yourn occurs 
 On hand-bills, er in newspapers, 
 Er letters writ by friends at ast 
 About you, same as in the past, 
 And neghbors and relations low 
 You re out o* the tall timber now, 
 And "gittin thare" about as spry s 
 The next ! as / say, when my eyes, 
 Er ears, lights on your name, I mind 
 The first time at I come to find 
 You and my Rickollection yells, 
 Jest jtibilunt as old sleigh-bells 
 " Ras Wilson ! Say ! Hold up I and shake 
 A paw, f er old acquaintance sake !" 
 My Rickollection, more n like, 
 Hain t overly too apt to strike 
 The what s-called "cultchurd public eye" 
 As wisdom of the deepest dye, 
 And yit my Rickollection makes 
 So blame lots fewer bad mistakes, 
 Regardin human-natur* and 
 The fellers at I ve shook theyr hand, 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Than my best jedgenmnt s done, the day 
 I ve met em fore I got away, 
 At Well, Ras Wilson, let me grip 
 Your hand in warmest pardnership ! 
 
 iflliiiiio.^ b.rfii ,rromfno3 31*110 / * -* 
 Dad-burn ye ! Like to jest haul back 
 
 A old flat-hander, j est che-whack ! 
 
 And take you twixt the shoulders, say, 
 
 Sometime you re lookin t other way ! 
 
 Er, maybe whilse you re speakin to 
 
 A whole blame Court-house-full o thu- 
 
 Syastic friends, I d like to jest 
 
 Come in-like and break up the nest 
 
 Afore you hatched another cheer, 
 
 And say : " Ras, / can t stand hitched here 
 
 All night ner wouldn t ef I could ! 
 
 But Little Bethel Neghborhood, 
 
 You ust to live at, s sent some word 
 
 Fer you, ef ary chance occurred 
 
 To git it to ye, so ef you 
 
 Kin stop, I m waitin* f er ye to 1" 
 
 You re common, as I said afore 
 You re common, yit oncommon more. 
 You allus kindo pear, to me, 
 What all mankind had ort to be 
 Jest natchurl, and the more hurraws 
 You git, the less you know the cause 
 Like as ef God Hisse f stood by 
 Where best on earth hain t half knee-high, 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And seein like, and knowin He 
 S the Only Grate Man really, 
 You re jest content to size your hight 
 With any feller man s in sight. 
 And even then they s scrubs, like me, 
 Feels stuck-up, in your company ! 
 
 . .h.TH-.i ofLj aJKf! r>f!J ?2$r Ji an. /o- isCT 
 Like now : I want to go with you 
 
 Plum out o town a mile er two 
 Clean past the Fair-ground whare s some hint 
 O pennyrile er peppermint, 
 And bottom-lands, and timber thick 
 Enugh to sorto* shade the crick! 
 I want to see you want to set 
 Down somers, whare the grass hain t wet, 
 And kindo* breathe you, like puore air 
 And taste o your tobacker thare, 
 And talk and chaw ! Talk o the birds 
 We ve knocked with cross-bows. Afterwards 
 Drop, mayby, into some dispute 
 Bout "pomgrannies," er cal mus-root 
 And how they growed, and whare? on tree 
 Er vine? Who s best boy-memory! 
 And wasn t it gingsang, insted 
 O cal mus-root, growed like you said? 
 Er how to tell a coon-track from 
 A mussrat s ; er how milksick come 
 Er ef cows brung it? Er why now 
 We never see no "muley"-cow 
 Ner "frizzly"-chicken ner no "clay- 
 Bank" mare ner nothin thataway ! 
 
 idjiexfjo v/{ lirnicn 
 29 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And what s come o the yellow-core 
 Old wortermelons ? hain t no more. 
 Tomattusus, the :;ame all red- 
 Uns nowadays All past joys fled 
 Each and all jest gone k-whizz! 
 Like our days o childhood is ! 
 
 Dag-gone it, Ras ! they hain t no friend, 
 It pears-like, left to comperhend 
 Sich things as these but you, and see 
 How dratted sweet they air to me ! 
 But you, at s loved em allus, and 
 Kin sort em out and understand 
 Em, same as the fine books you ve read, 
 And all fine thoughts you ve writ, er said, 
 Er worked out, through long nights o rain, 
 And doubts and fears, and hopes, again, 
 As bright as morning when she broke, 
 You know a tear-drop from a joke! 
 And so, Ras Wilson, stop and shake 
 A paw, f er old acquaintance sake ! 
 
 16 My Ruthers 
 
 [Writ durin* State Fair at Indanoplis, whilse visitin a 
 Soninlaw then residin thare, who has sence got back to the 
 country whare he says a man that s raised there ort to 
 a-stayed in the first place.] 
 
 T TELL you what I d ruther do 
 JL Ef I only had my ruthers, 
 I d ruther work when I wanted to 
 Than be bossed round by others ; 
 30 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I d rutlier kindo git the swing 
 O what was needed, first, I jing! 
 Afore I swet at anything! 
 Ef I only had my ruthers ; 
 In fact I d aim to be the same 
 
 With all men as my brothers ; 
 And they d all be the same with me 
 Ef I only had my ruthers. 
 
 I wouldn t likely know it all 
 Ef I only had my ruthers ; 
 I d know some sense, and some baseball- 
 Some old jokes, and some others: 
 I d know some politics, and low 
 Some tarif -speeches same as now, 
 Then go hear Nye on "Branes and How 
 To Detect Theyr Presence." T others, 
 That stayed away, I d let em stay 
 
 All my dissentin brothers 
 Could chuse as shore a kill er cuore, 
 Ef I only had my ruthers. 
 
 The pore ud git theyr dues sometimes 
 
 Ef I only had my ruthers, 
 And be paid dollars stid o dimes, 
 Fer childern, wives and mothers : 
 Theyr boy that slaves ; theyr girl that sews- 
 Fer others not herself, God knows ! 
 The grave s her only change of clothes ! 
 . . . Ef I only had my ruthers, 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They d all have "stuff" and time enugh 
 
 To answer one-another s 
 Appealin prayer fer "lovin care" 
 
 Ef I only had my ruthers. 
 
 They d be few folks ud ast fer trust, 
 
 Ef I only had my ruthers, 
 And blame few business men to bu st 
 Theyrselves, er harts of others : 
 
 Big Guns that come here durin Fair- 
 Week could put up jest anywhare, 
 And find a full-and-plenty thare, 
 Ef I only had my ruthers : 
 The rich and great ud sociate 
 With all theyr lowly brothers, 
 Feelin we done the honorun 
 Ef I only had my ruthers. 
 
 17 A Old Playcd-Out Song 
 
 IT S the curiousest thing in creation, 
 Whenever I hear that old song 
 "Do They Miss Me at Home," I m so bothered, 
 
 My life seems as short as it s long! 
 Fer everything pears like adzackly 
 
 It peared in the years past and gone, 
 When I started out sparkin , at twenty, 
 And had my first neckercher on ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Though I m wrinkleder, older and grayer 
 
 Right now than my parents was then, 
 You strike up that song "Do They Miss Me," 
 
 And I m jest a youngster again! 
 I m a-standin back thare in the furries 
 
 A-wishin fer evening to come, 
 And a-whisperin over and over 
 
 Them words "Do They Miss Me at Home?" 
 
 You see, Marthy Ellen she sung it 
 
 The first time I heerd it ; and so, 
 As she was my very first sweethart, 
 
 It reminds me of her, don t you know ; 
 How her face ust to look, in the twilight, 
 
 As I tuck her to Spellin ; and she 
 Kep* a-hummin that song tel I ast her, 
 
 Pint-blank, ef she ever missed me! 
 
 I can shet my eyes now, as you sing it, 
 
 And hear her low answerin words ; 
 And then the glad chirp of the crickets, 
 
 As clear as the twitter of birds ; 
 And the dust in the road is like velvet, 
 
 And the ragweed and fennel and grass 
 Is as sweet as the scent of the lilies 
 
 Of Eden of old, as we pass. 
 
 ,;.[ >n-> t )r (j r>:-jfr .* ;?.,+/?:.?"> fh/m nl 
 "Do They Miss Me at Home?" Sing it lower 
 
 And softer and sweet as the breeze 
 That powdered our path with the snowy 
 
 White bloom of the old locus -trees I 
 
 33 
 
THE IIOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Let the whipperwills he p you to sing it, 
 And the echoes way over the hill, 
 
 Tel the moon boolges out, in a chorus 
 Of stars, and our voices is still. 
 
 But, oh ! "They s a chord in the music 
 
 That s missed when her voice is away !" 
 Though I listen from midnight tel morning, 
 
 And dawn tel the dusk of the day! 
 And I grope through the dark, lookin up ards 
 
 And on through the heavenly dome, 
 With my longin soul singin and sobbin 
 
 The words "Do They Miss Me at Home?" 
 
 18 "Coon-Dog Wess" 
 
 "/^OON-DOG WESS" he allus went 
 \^4 Mongst us here by that-air name. 
 
 Moved in this-here Settlement 
 
 From next county he laid claim, 
 
 Lived down in the bottoms whare 
 
 Ust to be some coons in thare ! 
 
 In nigh Clayton s, next the crick, 
 
 Mind old Billy ust to say 
 Coons in thare was jest that thick, 
 
 He p him corn-plant any day ! 
 And, in rostneer-time, be then 
 Aggin him to plant again ! 
 34 
 
THE I-IOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Well, In Spring o 67, 
 
 This-here "Coon-dog Wess" he come 
 Fetchin long bout forty- leven 
 
 Ornriest-lookin hounds, I gum ! 
 Ever niortul-man laid eyes 
 On sence dawn o Christian skies ! 
 
 Wife come traipsin at the rag- 
 Tag-and-bobtail of the crowd, 
 
 Dogs and childern, with a bag 
 Corn-meal and some side-meat, Proud 
 
 And as independunt My! 
 
 Yit a mild look in her eye. 
 
 Well this "Coon-dog Wess" he jest 
 
 Moved in that-air little pen 
 Of a pole-shed, aidgin west 
 
 On The Slues o Death," called then. 
 Otter- and mink-hunters ust 
 To camp thare fore game vam-moosd. 
 
 Abul-bodied man, and lots 
 
 Call fer choppers and fer hands 
 
 To git cross-ties out. But what s 
 Work to sich as understands 
 
 Ways appinted and is hence 
 
 Under special providence? 
 
 "Coon-dog W ess s" holts was hounds 
 And coon-huntin ; and he knowed 
 
 His own range, and stayed in bounds 
 And left work fer them at showed 
 
 Talents fer it same as his 
 
 Gifts regardin coon-dogs is. 
 35 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Hounds of ev ry mungerl breed 
 
 Ever whelped on earth ! Had these 
 
 Yeller kind, with punkin-seed 
 Marks above theyr eyes and fleas 
 
 Both to sell and keep! Also 
 
 These-here lop-yeerd hounds, you know. 
 
 Yes-and brindle hounds and long, 
 
 Ga nt hounds, with them eyes they got 
 
 So blame sorry, it seems wrong, 
 Most, to kick em as to not ! 
 
 Man, though, wouldn t dast, I guess, 
 
 Kick a hound fer "Coon-dog Wess" ! 
 
 Tended to his own affairs 
 
 Stric ly ; made no brags,- and yit 
 
 You could see at them hounds cares 
 Teared like his, and he d a fit 
 
 Fer em, same as wife er child ! 
 
 Them facts made folks rickonciled, 
 
 Sorto , fer to let him be 
 And not pester him. And then 
 
 Word begin to spread at he 
 Had brung in as high as ten 
 
 Coon-pelts in one night and yit 
 
 Didn t pear to boast of it ! 
 
 Neghborhood made some complaints 
 Bout them plague-gone hounds at night 
 
 Howlin fit to wake the saints, 
 Clean from dusk tel plum daylight ! 
 
 But to "Coon-dog Wess" them-thare 
 
 Howls was "music in the air" ! 
 36 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Fetched his pelts to Gilson s Store 
 Newt he shipped fer him, and said, 
 
 Sence he d cooned thare, he d shipped more 
 Than three hundred pelts ! "By Ned ! 
 
 Git shet of my store," Newt says, 
 
 "I d go in with Coon-dog Wess* !" 
 
 And the feller peared to be 
 
 Makin best and most he could 
 Of his rale prospairity: 
 
 Bought some household things and good; 
 Likewise, wagon-load onc t come 
 From wharever he d moved from. 
 
 But pore feller s huntin -days, 
 
 Bout them times, was glidin* past ! 
 
 Goes out onc t one night and stays! 
 
 . . . Neghbors they turned out, at last, 
 
 Headed by his wife and one 
 
 Half-starved hound and search begun. 
 
 Boys said, that blame hound, he led 
 
 Searchin* party, bout a half 
 Mile ahead, and bellerin , said, 
 
 Worse n ary yearlin calf ! 
 Tel, at last, come fur-off sounds 
 
 Like the howl of other hounds. 
 
 ! lw;>T 
 
 And-sir, shore enugh, them signs 
 Fetched em in a* hour er two 
 
 Whare the pack was ; and they finds 
 
 "Coon-dog Wess" right thare; And you 
 
 Would admitted he was right 
 
 Staying as he had, all night! 
 37 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Facts is, cuttin down a tree, 
 The blame thing had sorto fell 
 
 In a twist-like mercy me! 
 And had ketched him. Couldn t tell, 
 
 Wess said, how he d managed yit 
 
 He d got both legs under it ! 
 
 Fainted and come to, I s pose, 
 
 Bout a dozen times whilse they 
 Chopped him out! And wife she froze 
 
 To him ! bresh his hair away 
 And smile cheerful only when 
 He d faint. Cry and kiss him the n. 
 
 ^YBh- fjiifmn a -nlbl -rroq inff 
 Had his nerve ! And nussed him through,- 
 
 Neghbors he pped her all she d stand. 
 Had a loom, and she could do 
 
 Carpet-weavin railly grand! 
 " Sides," she ust to laugh and say, 
 "She d have Wess, now, night and day!" 
 
 As fer him, he d say, says-ee, 
 
 "I m resigned to bein lame : 
 They was four coons up that tree, 
 
 And hounds got em, jest the same!" 
 Feared like, one er two legs less 
 Never worried "Coon-dog Wess" ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Ip A Talc of the Airly Days 
 
 OH ! tell me a tale of the airly days 
 Of the times as they used to be; 
 "Filler of Fi-er" and "Shakespeare s Plays" 
 
 Is a most too deep f er me ! 
 I want plane facts, and I want plane words, 
 
 Of the good old-fashioned ways, 
 When speech run free as the songs of birds 
 Way back in the airly days. 
 
 Tell me a tale of the timber-lands 
 
 Of the old-time pioneers; 
 Somepin a pore man understands 
 
 With his feelin s s well as ears. 
 Tell of the old log house, about 
 
 The loft, and the puncheon flore 
 The old fi-er-place, with the crane swung out, 
 
 And the latch-string thrugh the door. 
 
 Tell of the things jest as they was 
 
 They don t need no excuse ! 
 Don t tetch em up like the poets does, 
 
 Tel theyr all too fine f er use ! 
 Say they was leven in the fambily 
 
 Two beds, and the chist, below, 
 .And the trundle-beds that each helt three, 
 
 And the clock and the old bureau. 
 
 Then blow the horn at the old back-door 
 
 7el the echoes all halloo, 
 And the childern gethers home onc t more, 
 
 Jest as they ust to do : 
 39 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Blow for Fap tel he hears and comes, 
 
 With Tonips and Elias, too, 
 A-marchin home, with the fife and drums 
 
 And the old Red White and Blue ! 
 
 Blow and blow tel the sound draps low 
 
 As the moan of the whipperwill, 
 And wake up Mother, and Ruth and Jo, 
 
 All sleepin at Bethel Hill : 
 Blow and call tel the faces all 
 
 Shine out in the back-log s blaze, 
 And the shadders dance on the old hewed wall 
 
 As they did in the airly days. 
 
 20 "Mylo Jones s Wife" 
 
 -* yr YLO JONES S wife" was all 
 
 iYJL I heerd, mighty near, last Fall 
 Visitun relations down 
 T other side of Morgantown ! 
 Mylo Jones s wife she does 
 This and that, and "those" and "thus" ! 
 Can t bide babies in her sight 
 Ner no childern, day and night, 
 Whoopin round the premises 
 Ner no no thin else, I guess ! 
 
 Mylo Jones s wife she lows 
 She s the boss of her own house ! 
 Mylo consequences is 
 Stays whare things seem some like his, 
 Uses, mostly, with the stock 
 Coaxin "Old Kate" not to balk, 
 40 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Ner kick boss-flics branes out, ner 
 Act, I s pose, so much like her! 
 Yit the wimern-folks tells you 
 She s perfection. Yes they do ! 
 
 Mylo s wife she says she s found 
 
 Home hain t home with men-folks round 
 
 When they s work like hern to do 
 
 Picklin pears and butcher n , too, 
 
 And a-render n lard, and then 
 
 Cookin fer a pack of men 
 
 To come trackin up the flore 
 
 She s scrubbed id she ll scrub no more! 
 
 Yit she d keep things clean ef they 
 
 Made her scrub tel Jedgmunt Day ! 
 
 Mylo Jones s wife she sews 
 Carpet-rags and patches clothes 
 Jest year in and out! and yit 
 Whare s the livin use of it? 
 She asts Mylo that. And he 
 Gits back whare he d ruther be, 
 With his team; jest plows and don t 
 Never sware like some folks won t! 
 Think ef he d cut loose, I gum ! 
 D hc p his heavenly chances some ! 
 
 Mylo s wife don t see no use, 
 Ner no reason ner excuse 
 Fer his pore relations to 
 Hang round like they allus do ! 
 Thare bout onc t a year and she 
 She jest ga nts em, folks tells me, 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 On spiced pears ! Pass Mylo one, 
 He says "No, he don t chuse none !" 
 Workin men like Mylo they 
 D ort to have meat ev ry day ! 
 
 Dad-burn Mylo Jones s wife ! 
 Ruther rake a blame case-knife 
 Crost my wizzen than to see 
 Sich a womern rulin* me! 
 Ruther take and turn in and 
 Raise a fool mule-colt by hand ! 
 Mylo, though od-rot the man ! 
 Jest keeps ca m like some folks can- 
 And low sich as her, I s pose, 
 Is Man s he pmeet! Mercy knows! 
 
 21 Old John Clevcngcr on Buckeyes 
 
 OLD John Clevenger lets on, 
 Allus, like he s purty rough 
 Timber. He s a grate old John ! 
 
 "Rough ?" don t swaller no sich stuff ! 
 Moved here, sence the war was through 
 
 From Ohio somers near 
 Old Bucyrus, loyal, too, 
 
 As us "Hoosiers" is to here! 
 Git old John stirred up a bit 
 
 On his old home stompin -ground 
 Talks same as he lived thare yit, 
 When some subject brings it round 
 42 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Like, fer instunce, Sund y last, 
 
 Fetched his wife, and et and stayed 
 All night with us. Set and gassed 
 
 Tel plum midnight cause I made 
 Some remark bout "buckeyes" and 
 
 "What was buckeyes good fer ?" So, 
 Like I lowed, he waved his hand 
 
 And lit in and let me know : 
 " What is Buckeyes good fer? What s 
 Pineys and fcr-git-me-nots? 
 Honeysuckles, and sweet peas, 
 And sweet-williamsuz, and these 
 Johnny-jump-ups ev rywhare, 
 Growin round the roots o trees 
 In Spring-weather ? what air they 
 Good fer? kin you tell me Hey? 
 Good to look at ? Well they air ! 
 Specially when Winter s gone, 
 Clean dead-ccrt in! and the wood s 
 Green again, and sun feels good s 
 June ! and shed your blame boots on 
 The back porch, and lit out to 
 Roam round like you ust to do, 
 Bare-foot, up and down the crick, 
 Whare the buckeyes growed so thick, 
 And witch-hazel and pop-paws, 
 And hackberries and black-haws 
 With wild-pizen vines jis knit 
 Over and en-nundcr it, 
 And wove round it all, I jing! 
 Tel you couldn t hardly stick 
 A durn case-knife through the thing! 
 
 43 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Wriggle round through that; and then 
 
 All het-up, and scratched and tanned, 
 
 And muskeeter-bit and mean- 
 
 Feelin all at onc t again, 
 
 Come out suddent on a clean 
 
 Slopin little hump o green 
 
 Dry soft grass, as fine and grand 
 
 As a pollor-sofy! And 
 
 Jis pile down thare ! and tell tne 
 
 Anywharcs you d ruther be 
 
 Ceptin right thare, with the wild- 
 
 Flowrs all round ye, and your eyes 
 
 Smilin with em at the skies, 
 
 Happy as a little child ! 
 
 Well ! right here, 7 want to say, 
 
 Poets kin talk all they please 
 
 Bout wild-flowrs, in colors gay, 
 
 And sweet blossoms flauntin* theyr 
 
 Beauteous fragrunce on the breeze 
 
 But the sight o buckeyes jis 
 
 Sweet to me as blossoms is ! 
 
 "I m Ohio-born right whare 
 People s all called Buckeyes thare 
 Cause, I s pose, our buckeye crap s 
 Biggest in the world, perhaps ! 
 Ner my head don t stretch my hat 
 Too much on account o that! 
 Cause it s Natchur s ginerus hand 
 Sows em broadcast ore the land, 
 With eye-single fer man s good 
 And the gineral neghborhood ! 
 
 44 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 So buckeyes jis natchurly 
 
 Pears like kith-and-kin to me! 
 
 S like the good old sayin wuz, 
 
 Turty is as purty does! 
 
 We can t eat em, cookd er raw 
 
 Yit, I mind, tomattusus 
 
 Wuz considered pizenus 
 
 Onc t and dasent eat em ! Pshaw 
 
 T wouldn t take me by supprise, 
 
 Someday, ef we et buckeyes! 
 
 That, though, s nuther here ner thare ! 
 
 Jis the Buckeye whare we air, 
 
 In the present times, is what 
 
 Ockuppies my lovin care 
 
 And my most perfotmdest thought ! 
 
 . . . Guess, this minute, what I got: 
 
 In my pocket, at I ve packed 
 
 Purt nigh forty year. A dry, 
 
 Slick and shiny, warped and cracked, 
 
 Wilted, weazened old buckeye! 
 
 What s it thare fer? W T hat s my hart 
 
 In my brcst fer? Cause it s part 
 
 Of my life and tends to biz 
 
 Like this buckeye s bound to act 
 
 Cause it tends to Rhumath! 
 
 ". . . Ketched more rhumatiz than fish 
 Seinen , onc t and pants froze on 
 My blame legs !-r And ust to wish 
 I wuz well er dead and gone! 
 .Ji C ? oj i- j-// nio-}1 F>hgw txi J ibiiioa ,bfiA 
 ! bnfl 1373 H uov vj)* jnod oVl 
 45 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Doc give up the case, and shod 
 
 His old hoss again and stayed 
 
 On good roads! And thare I laid! 
 
 Pap he tuck some bluegrass sod 
 
 Steeped in whisky, bilin -hot, 
 
 And socked that on ! Then I got 
 
 Sorto* holt o him, somehow 
 
 Kindo* crazy-like, they say 
 
 And I d killed him, like as not, 
 
 Ef I hadn t swooned away! 
 
 Smell my scortcht pelt purt nigh now! 
 
 Well to make a long tale short 
 
 I hung on the blame disease 
 
 Like a shavin -hoss ! and sort 
 
 O wore it out by slow degrees 
 
 Tel my legs wuz straight enugh 
 
 To poke through my pants again 
 
 And kick all the doctor-stuff 
 
 In the fi-er-place! Then turned in 
 
 And tuck Daddy Craig s old cuore 
 
 Jls a buckeye and that s shore. 
 
 Hain t no case o rhumatiz 
 
 Kin subsist whare buckeyes is !" 
 
 22 The Hoss 
 
 THE hoss he is a splendud beast; 
 He is man s friend, as heaven desined, 
 And, search the world from west to east, 
 No honester you ll ever find ! 
 46 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Some calls the boss "a pore dumb brute," 
 And yit, like Him who died fer you, 
 
 I say, as I theyr charge refute, 
 " Fergive ; they know not what they do ! " 
 
 No wiser animal makes tracks 
 Upon these earthly shores, and hence 
 
 Arose the axium, true as facts, 
 
 Extoled by all, as "Good hoss-sense !" 
 
 The hoss is strong, and knows his stren th, 
 
 You hitch him up a time er two 
 And lash him, and he ll go his len th 
 
 And kick the dashboard out fer you ! 
 
 But, treat him allus good and kind, 
 And never strike him with a stick, 
 
 Ner aggervate him, and you ll find 
 He ll never do a hostile trick. 
 
 A hoss whose master tends him right 
 And worters him with daily care, 
 
 Will do your biddin with delight, 
 And act as docile as you air. 
 
 He ll paw and prance to hear your praise, 
 Because he s learnt to love you well ; 
 
 And, though you can t tell what he says, 
 He ll nicker all he wants to tell. 
 
 He knows you when you slam the gate 
 
 At early dawn, upon your way 
 Unto the barn, and snorts elate, 
 
 To git his corn, er oats, er hay. 
 
 47 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 He knows you, as the orphant knows 
 The folks that loves her like theyr own, 
 
 And raises her and "finds" her clothes, 
 And "schools" her tel a womern-grown ! 
 
 I claim no hoss will harm a man, 
 Ner kick, ner run away, cavort, 
 
 Stump-suck, er balk, er "catamaran," 
 Ef you ll jest treat him as you ort. 
 
 But when I see the beast abused, 
 And clubbed around as I ve saw some, 
 
 I want to see his owner noosed, 
 And jest yanked up like Absolum! 
 
 Of course they s differunce in stock, 
 
 A hoss that has a little yeer, 
 And slender build, and shaller hock, 
 
 Can beat his shadder, mighty near ! 
 
 Whilse one that s thick in neck and chist 
 And big in leg and full in flank, 
 
 That tries to race, I still insist 
 
 He ll have to take the second rank. 
 
 And I have jest laid back and laughed, 
 And rolled and wallered in the grass 
 
 At fairs, to see some heavy-draft 
 Lead out at first, yit come in last! 
 
 Each hoss has his appinted place, 
 
 The heavy hoss should plow the soil ; 
 
 The blooded racer, he must race, 
 And win big wages fer his toil. 
 48 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I never bet ner never wrought 
 
 Upon my feller man to bet 
 And yit, at times, I ve often thought 
 
 Of my convictions with regret. 
 
 ,XW anioa ,nnn siLt ^m** uifj HE Ju3 
 I bless the hoss from hoof to head 
 
 From head to hoof, and tale to mane!--= 
 I bless the hoss, as I have said, 
 
 From head to hoof, and back again ! 
 
 jsw bus \ib .^Dnjjiaixs 
 I love my God the first of all, 
 
 Then Him that perished on the cross, 
 And next, my wife, and then I fall 
 Down on my knees and love the hoss. 
 
 23 Wet-Weather Talk 
 
 IT hain t no use to grumble and complane; 
 It s jest as cheap and easy to rejoice. 
 When God sorts out the weather and sends rain, 
 W y, rain s my choice. 
 
 Men ginerly, to all intents 
 
 Although they re apt to grumble some 
 Puts most theyr trust in Providence, 
 And takes things as they come 
 That is, the commonality 
 Of men that s lived as long as me 
 Has watched the world en ugh to learn 
 They re not the boss of this concern. 
 
 49 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 With some, of course, it s different 
 
 I ve saw young men that knowed it all, 
 And didn t like the way things went 
 On this terrestchul ball; 
 
 But all the same, the rain, some way, 
 Rained jest as hard on picnic day; 
 Er, when they railly wanted it, 
 It mayby wouldn t rain a bit ! 
 
 In this existunce, dry and wet 
 
 Will overtake the best of men- 
 Some little ski ft o clouds ll shet 
 The sun off now and then. 
 
 And mayby, whilse you re wundern who 
 You ve fool-like lent your umbrell to, 
 And want it out ll pop the sun, 
 And you ll be glad you hain t got none! 
 
 It aggervates the farmers, too 
 
 They s too much wet, er too much sun, 
 Er work, er waitin* round to do 
 Before the plowin s done: 
 
 And mayby, like as not, the wheat, 
 Jest as it s lookin hard to beat, 
 Will ketch the storm and jest about 
 The time the corn s a-jintm out. 
 
 These-here cy-clones a-foolin round 
 
 And back ard crops ! and wind and rain !- 
 
 And yit the corn that s wallerd down 
 May elbow up again ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They hain t no sense, as I can see, 
 Per mortuls, sich as us, to be 
 A-faultin Natchur s wise intents, 
 And lockin horns with Providence ! 
 
 It hain t no use to grumble and complane ; 
 
 It s jest as cheap and easy to rejoice. 
 When God sorts out the weather and sends rain, 
 
 W y, rain s my choice. 
 
 24 Ezra House 
 
 [These lines was writ, in ruther high sperits, jest at the 
 close of what s called the Anti Bellum Days, and more to 
 be a-foolin than anything else, though they is more er 
 less facts in it. But some of the boys, at the time we was 
 all a-singin it, ferEzry s benefit, to the old tune of "The Oak 
 and the Ash and the Bonny Wilier Tree," got it struck off 
 in the weekly, without leave er lisence of mine; and so 
 sence they s allus some of em left to rigg me about it yit, 
 I might as well claim the thing right here and now, so here 
 goes. I give it jest as it appeared, fixed up and grammati- 
 sizcd consider ble, as the editer told me he took the liburty 
 of doin , in that sturling old home paper THE ADVANCE 
 as sound a paper yit to-day and as stanch and abul as you ll 
 find in a hunderd.] 
 
 COME listen, good people, while a story I do tell, 
 Of the sad fate of one which I knew so passing well; 
 He enlisted at McCordsville, to battle in the South, 
 And protect his country s union ; his name was Ezra House. 
 
 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 He was a young school-teacher, and educated high 
 In regards to Ray s arithmetic, and also Algebra : 
 He give good satisfaction, but at his country s call 
 He dropped his position, his Algebra and all. 
 
 "It s oh, I m going to leave you, kind scholars," he said 
 For he wrote a composition the last day and read ; 
 And it brought many tears in the eyes of the school, 
 To say nothing of his sweetheart he was going to leave so 
 soon. 
 
 "I have many recollections to take with me away, 
 Of the merry transpirations in the schoolroom so gay; 
 And of all that s past and gone I will never regret 
 I went to serve my country at the first of the outset !" 
 
 He was a good penman, and the lines that he wrote 
 On that sad occasion was too fine for me to quote, 
 For I was there and heard it, and I ever will recall 
 It brought the happy tears to the eyes of us all. 
 
 And when he left, his sweetheart she fainted away, 
 And said she could never forget the sad day 
 When her lover so noble, and gallant and gay, 
 Said "Fare you well, my true love !" and went marching 
 away. 
 
 But he hadn t been gone for more than two months, 
 When the sad news come "he was in a skirmish once, 
 And a cruel Rebel ball had wounded him full sore 
 In the region of the chin, through the canteen he wore." 
 
 52 
 
THE IIOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But his health recruited up, and his wounds they got well, 
 But whilst he was in battle at Bull Run or Malvern Hill, 
 The news come again, so sorrowful to hear 
 "A sliver from a bombshell cut off his right ear." 
 
 But he stuck to the boys, and it s often he would write, 
 That "he wasn t afraid for his country to fight." 
 But oh, had he returned on a furlough, I believe 
 He would not, to-day, have such cause to grieve. 
 
 For in another battle the name I never heard 
 
 He was guarding the wagons when an accident occurred, 
 
 A comrade who was under the influence of drink, 
 
 Shot him with a musket through the right cheek, I think. 
 
 But his dear life was spared ; but it hadn t been for long, 
 Till a cruel Rebel colonel come riding along, 
 And struck him with his sword, as many do suppose, 
 For his cap-rim was cut off, and also his nose. 
 
 But Providence, who watches o er the noble and the brave, 
 Snatched him once more from the jaws of the grave; 
 And just a little while before the close of the war, 
 He sent his picture home to his girl away so far. 
 
 And she fell into decline, and she wrote in reply, 
 "She had seen his face again and was ready to die" ; 
 And she wanted him to promise, when she was in her tomb. 
 He would only visit that by the light of the moon. 
 
 But he never returned at the close of the war, 
 And the boys that got back said he hadn t the heart ; 
 But he got a position in a powder-mill, and said 
 He hoped to meet the doom that his country denied. 
 
 53 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 ?5 A Pen-Pictur of a C erf in Friv- 
 volus Old Man 
 
 MOST ontimely old man yit! 
 Tear-like sometimes he jest trie* 
 His fool-self, and takes the bitt 
 
 In his teeth and jest de-fies 
 All perpryties ! Lay and swet 
 
 Doin* nothin only jest 
 Sorto speckillatun on 
 Whare old summer-times is gone, 
 
 And bout things that he loved best 
 When a youngster ! Heerd him say 
 Spring-times made him thataway 
 
 Speshully on Sund ys when 
 
 Sun shines out and in again, 
 And the lonesome old hens they 
 
 Git off under the old kern- 
 Bushes, and in deep concern 
 Talk-like to theyrselves, and scratch 
 
 Kindo* absunt-minded, jest 
 Like theyr thoughts was fur away 
 In some neghbor s gyarden-patch 
 
 Folks has tended keerfullest! 
 Heerd the old man dwell on these 
 
 Idys time and time again ! 
 Heerd him claim that orchurd-trees 
 
 Bloomin , put the mischief in 
 His old hart sometimes that bad 
 And owdacious that he "had 
 
 To break loose someway" says he s 
 
 "Ornry as I ust to be !" 
 54 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Heerd him say one time when I 
 Was a sorto standin by, 
 
 And the air so still and clear, 
 
 Heerd the bell f er church clean here !- 
 Said : "Ef I could climb and set 
 
 On the old three-cornered rail 
 Old home-place, nigh Maryette , 
 
 Swop my soul off, hide and tale !" 
 And-sir ! blame ef tear and laugh 
 Didn t ketch him half and half ! 
 
 "Oh !" he says, "to wake and be 
 Barefoot, in the airly dawn 
 
 In the pastur ! thare," says he, 
 "Standin whare the cow s slep* on 
 
 The cold, dewy grass that s got 
 
 Print of her jest steamy hot 
 Fer to warm a feller s heels 
 In a while ! How good it feels ! 
 
 Sund y ! Country ! Morning ! Hear 
 Nothin but the silunce see 
 
 Nothin but green woods and clear 
 Skies and unwrit poetry 
 By the acre ! . . . Oh !" says he, 
 
 "What s this voice of mine? to seek 
 
 To speak out, and yit can t speak ! 
 
 "Think! the lazyest of days" 
 Takin his contrairyest leap, 
 He went on, "git up, er sleep 
 
 Er whilse feedin , watch the haze 
 Dancin crost the wheat, and keep 
 
 55 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 My pipe goin laisurely 
 
 Puff and whiff as pleases me, 
 
 Er I ll leave a trail of smoke 
 Through the house! no one ll say 
 Throw that nasty thing away! 
 
 Pear-like nothin* sacerd s broke, 
 Goin barefoot ef I chuse ! 
 
 I have fiddled; and dug bait 
 And "went fishin ; pitched hoss-shoes 
 Whare they couldn t see us from 
 The main road. And I ve beat some. 
 
 I ve set round and had my joke 
 With the thrashers at the barn 
 And I ve swapped em yarn f er yarn ! 
 
 Er I ve he pped the childern poke 
 Per hens -nests agged on a match 
 Twixt the boys, to watch em scratch 
 
 And paw round and rip and tare, 
 
 And bu st buttons and pull hair 
 To theyr rompin harts content 
 
 And me jest a-settin thare 
 Hatchin out more devilment ! 
 
 "What you s pose now ort to be 
 Done with sich a man?" says he 
 "Sich a f ool-old-rnan as me !" 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 26 Thoughts on a Pore Joke 
 
 I LIKE fun and I like jokes 
 Bout as well as most o folks ! 
 Like my joke, and like my fun ; 
 But a joke, I ll state right here, 
 S got some p int er I don t keer 
 
 Fer no joke that hain t got none. 
 I hain t got no use, I ll say, 
 Fer a pore joke, anyway! 
 
 F r instunce, now, when some folks gits 
 To relyin on theyr wits, 
 Ten to one they git too smart 
 And spile it all, right at the start ! 
 Feller wants to jest go slow 
 And do his thinkin first, you know. 
 F I can t think up somepin good, 
 I set still and chaw my cood ! 
 F you think nothin jest keep on, 
 But don t say it er you re gone I 
 nib -r.vjbbx tfno ;.-n onJ ?!i,>a 
 
 27 A Mortul Prayer 
 
 OH ! Thou that veileth from all eyes 
 The glory of Thy face, 
 And setteth throned behind the skies 
 
 In Thy abiding-place : 
 Though I but dimly reco nize 
 Thy purposes of grace; 
 57 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And though with weak and wavering 
 Deserts, and vexed with fears, 
 
 I lift the hands I can not wring 
 All dry of sorrow s tears, 
 
 Make puore my prayers that daily wing 
 Theyr way unto Thy ears ! 
 
 Oh ! with the hand that tames the flood 
 
 And smooths the storm to rest, 
 Make ba mmy dews of all the blood 
 
 That stormeth in my brest, 
 And so refresh my hart to bud 
 
 And bloom the loveliest. 
 Lull all the clammer of my soul 
 
 To silunce ; bring release 
 Unto the brane still in controle 
 
 Of doubts ; bid sin to cease, 
 And let the waves of pashun roll 
 
 And kiss the shores of peace. 
 
 Make me love my feller man- 
 Yea, though his bitterness 
 
 Doth bite as only adders can 
 Let me the fault confess, 
 
 And go to him and clasp his hand 
 And love him none the less. 
 
 So keep me, Lord, f erever free 
 From vane concete er whim ; 
 
 And he whose plus eyes can see 
 My faults, however dim, 
 
 Oh ! let him pray the least f er me. 
 And me the most fer him. 
 
 58 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 28 The First Bluebird 
 
 "3 :, Ur aiiUB y:iiboibaiq r. cr^UKr 
 
 JEST rain and snow! and rain again! 
 And dribble ! drip ! and blow ! 
 Then snow ! and thaw ! and slush ! and then- 
 Some more rain and snow ! 
 
 This morning I was most afeard 
 
 To wake up when, I jing! 
 I seen the sun shine out and heerd 
 
 The first bluebird of Spring! 
 Mother she d raised the winder some ; 
 And in acrost the orchurd come, 
 
 Soft as a angel s wing, 
 A breezy, treesy, beesy hum, 
 
 Too sweet fer anything! 
 
 The winter s shroud was rent apart- 
 
 The sun bu st forth in glee, 
 And when that bluebird sung, my hart 
 
 Hopped out o bed with me ! 
 
 29 On Any Or denary Man In a High 
 State of Lauc/hture and Delight 
 
 AS it s give me to perceive, 
 I most cert in y believe 
 When a man s jest glad plum through, 
 God s pleased with him, same as 
 59 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 jo Town and Country 
 
 THEY S a predjudice allus twixt country and town 
 Which I wisht in my hart wasent so. 
 You take city people, jest square up and down, 
 
 And they re mighty good people to know : 
 And whare s better people a-livin , to-day, 
 
 Than us in the country? Yit good 
 As both of us is, we re divorsed, you might say, 
 And won t compermise when we could ! 
 
 Now as nigh into town fer yer Pap, ef you please, 
 
 Is what s called the sooburbs. Fer thare 
 You ll at least ketch a whiff of the breeze and a sniff 
 
 Of the breth of wild-flowrs ev rywhare. 
 They s room fer the childern to play, and grow, too 
 
 And to roll in the grass, er to climb 
 Up a tree and rob nests, like they orient to do, 
 
 But they ll do anyhow ev ry time ! 
 
 My Son-in-law said, when he lived in the town, 
 
 He jest natchurly pined, night and day, 
 Fer a sight of the woods, er a acre of ground 
 
 Whare the trees wasent all cleared away ! 
 And he says to me onc t, whilse a-visitin us 
 
 On the farm, "It s not strange, I declare, 
 That we can t coax you folks, without raisin* a fuss, 
 
 To come to town, visitin thare !" 
 
 And says T, "Then gil back whare you sorto* belong 
 
 And Madaline, too, and yer three 
 Little childern," says I, "that don t know a bird-song, 
 
 Ner a hawk from a chicky-dee-dee ! 
 60 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Git back," I-says-I, "to the blue of the sky 
 
 And the green of the fields, and the shine 
 Of the sun, with a laugh in yer voice and yer eye 
 
 As harty as Mother s and mine !" 
 
 Well long-and-short of it, he s compermised some 
 
 He s moved in the sooburbs. And now 
 They don t haf to coax, when they want us to come, 
 
 Cause we turn in and go anyhow! 
 Per thare well, they s room fer the songs and purfume 
 
 Of the grove and the old orchurd-ground, 
 And they s room fer the childern out thare, and they s 
 room 
 
 Fer theyr Gran pap to waller em round ! 
 
 ji Decoration Day on tile Place 
 
 IT S lonesome sorto* lonesome, it s a Sund y-day, to 
 me, 
 
 It pears-like more n any day I nearly ever see ! 
 Yit, with the Stars and Stripes above, a-flutterin in the air, 
 On ev ry Soldier s grave I d love to lay a lily thare. 
 
 They say, though, Decoration Day is giner ly observed 
 Most ev rywhares espeshally by soldier-boys that s 
 
 served. 
 
 But me and Mother s never went we seldom git away, 
 In p int o* fact, we re allus home on Decoration Day. 
 
 61 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They say the old boys marches through the streets in 
 
 colum s grand, 
 
 A-follerin the old war-tunes they re playin on the band i 
 And citizuns all jinin in and little childern, too 
 All marchin , under shelter of the old Red White and 
 
 Blue. 
 
 With roses 1 roses ! roses ! ev rybody in the town ! 
 And crowds o* little girls in white, jest fairly loaded 
 
 down ! 
 Oh ! don t THE BOYS know it, from theyr camp acrost the 
 
 hill? 
 Don t they see theyr com ards comin* and the old flag 
 
 wavin still? 
 
 Oh ! can t they hear the bugul and the rattle of the drum? 
 Ain t they no way under heavens they can rickollect us 
 
 some? 
 Ain t they no way we can coax em, through the roses, jest 
 
 to say 
 They know that ev ry day on earth s theyr Decoration Day ? 
 
 We ve tried that me and Mother, whare Elias takes his 
 
 rest, 
 
 In the orchurd in his uniform, and hands acrost his brest, 
 And the flag he died f er, smilin and a-ripplin in the breeze 
 Above his grave and over that, the robin in the trees! 
 
 And yit if s lonesome lonesome ! It s a Sund y-day, to me, 
 
 It pears-like more n any day I nearly ever see ! 
 
 Still, with the Stars and Stripes above, a-flutterin in the 
 
 air, 
 
 On ev ry Soldier s grave I d love to lay a lily thare. 
 
 62 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 32 The Rcssz ille Lectur Course 
 
 [Set down from the real facts of the case that come un 
 der notice of the author whilse visitun far distant relatives 
 who ivuz then residin at Rossville, Mich.] 
 
 FOLKS up here at Rossville got up a Lectur Course : 
 All the leadin citizens they wuz out in force ; 
 Met and talked at Williamses , and greed to meet ag in ; 
 And helt another corkus when the next reports wuz in : 
 Met ag in at Samuelses ; and met ag in at Moore s 
 And Johnts putt the shutters up and jest barr d the door! 
 And yit, I ll jest be dagg-don d ! eft didn t take a week 
 Fore we d settled whare to write to git a man to speak ! 
 
 Found out whare the "Bureau" wuz; and then and thara 
 
 agreed 
 
 To strike whilse the iron s hot and foller up the lead. 
 Simp wuz Secatary; so he tuk his pen in hand, 
 And ast em what they d tax us fer the one on "Holy 
 
 Land" 
 
 "One of Colonel J. De-Koombs s Abelust and Best 
 Lectur s," the circ lar stated, "Give East er West !" 
 Wanted fifty dollars and his kyar-fare to and from, 
 And Simp wuz hence instructed fer to write him not t<\ 
 
 come. 
 
 Then we talked and jawed around another week er so, 
 And writ the "Bureau" bout the town a-bein sorto slow 
 Old-fogey-like, and pore as dirt, and lackin interprise 
 And ignornter n any other, cordin to its size: 
 
 63 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Tel finully the "Bureau" said they d send a cheaper man 
 Per forty dollars, who would give "A Talk About Japan" 
 "A reg lar Japanee hise f," the pamphlet claimed ; and so, 
 Nobody knowed his languige, and of course we let him go ! 
 
 Kindo* then let up a spell but rallied onc t ag in, 
 And writ to price a feller on what s called the "violin" 
 A Swede, er Pole, er somepin but no matter what he wuz, 
 Doc Cooper said he d heerd him, and he wuzn t wuth a 
 
 kuss ! 
 And then we ast fer Swlngse s terms; and Cook, and 
 
 Ing er soil 
 
 And blame ! ef forty dollars looked like anything at all ! 
 And then Burdette, we tried fer him; and Bob he writ to 
 
 say 
 He wuz busy writin ortographts and couldn t git away. 
 
 At last along in Aprile we signed to take this-here 
 Bill Nye of Californy, at wuz posted to appear 
 "The Comicalest Funny Man at Ever Jammed a Hall !" 
 So we made big preperations, and swep* out the church and 
 
 all! 
 And night he wuz to lectur , and the neghbors all wuz 
 
 thare, 
 And strangers packed along the aisles at come from ev ry- 
 
 whare, 
 
 Committee got a telegrapht the preacher read, at run 
 "Got off at Rossville, Indiany, stid of Michigun." 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 A Dos t o Blues 
 
 I GOT no patience with blues at all ! 
 And I list to kind o talk 
 Ag inst em, and claim, tel along last Fall, 
 
 They wuz none in the f ambly stock ; 
 But a nephew of mine, from Eelinoy, 
 
 That visitud us last year, 
 He kind o convinct me differunt 
 Whilse he wuz a-stayin here. 
 
 From ev ry-which-way that blues is from, 
 
 They d pester him ev ry-ways ; 
 They d come to him in the night, and come 
 
 On Sund ys, and rainy days ; 
 They d tackle him in corn-plantin time, 
 
 And in harvest, and airly Fall, 
 But a dos t o blues in the Winter-time, 
 
 He lowed, wuz the worst of all ! 
 
 Said "All diseases that ever he had 
 
 The mumps, er the rhumatiz 
 Er ev ry-other-day-aigger bad 
 
 As ever the blame thing is ! 
 Er a cyarbuncle, say, on the back of his neck, 
 
 Er a felon on his thumb, 
 But you keep the blues away from him, 
 
 And all o the rest could come !" 
 
 And he d moan, "They s nary a leaf below I 
 
 Ner a spear o grass in sight! 
 And the whole wood-pile s clean under snow ! 
 
 And the days is dark as night 1 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 You can t go out ner you can t stay in- 
 Lay down stand up ner set!" 
 
 And a tetch o regular tyfoid-blues 
 Would double him jest clean shetl 
 
 I writ his parunts a postal-kyard 
 
 He could stay tel Spring-time come ; 
 And Aprile first, as I rickollect 
 
 Wuz the day we shipped him home ! 
 Most o his relatives, sence then, 
 
 Has eether give up, er quit, 
 Er jest died off; but I understand 
 
 He s the same old color yit ! 
 
 34 Pap s Old Sayin* 
 
 PAP had one old-fashioned sayin 
 That I ll never quite fergit 
 And they s seven growed-up childern 
 
 Of us rickollects it yit! 
 Settin* round the dinner-table, 
 
 Talkin bout our friends, perhaps, 
 Er abusin* of our neghbors, 
 
 I kin hear them words o Pap s 
 "Shet up, and eat yer vittels !" 
 
 Pap he d never argy with us, 
 Ner cut any subject short 
 
 Whilse we all kep clear o gossip, 
 And wuz actin as we ort : 
 
 66 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But ef we d git out o order 
 Like sometimes a fambly is,? 
 
 Faultin folks, er one another, 
 Then we d hear that voice o his 
 "Shet up, and eat yer vittels 1" 
 
 Wuz no hand hisse f at talkin 
 
 Never hadn t much to say, 
 Only, as I said, pervidin 
 
 When we d rile him thataway: 
 Then he d allus lose his temper 
 
 Spite o fate, and jerk his head 
 And slam down his case-knife vicious* 
 
 Whilse he glared around and said 
 "Shet up, and eat yer vittels !" 
 
 Mind last time at Pap was ailin* 
 
 With a misery in his side, 
 And had hobbled in the kitchen 
 
 Jest the day before he died, 
 Laury Jane she ups and tells him, 
 
 "Pap, you re pale as pale kin be 
 Hain t ye feard them-air cowcumbers 
 
 Hain t good f er ye ?" And says he, 
 "Shet up, and eat yer vittels !" 
 
 Well ! I ve saw a-many a sorrow, 
 Forty year , through thick and thin ; 
 
 I ve got best, and I ve got worsted, 
 Time and time and time ag in ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But I ve met a-many a trouble 
 That I hain t run on to twice, 
 
 Haltin -like and thinkin over 
 Them-air words o* Pap s advice : 
 "Shet up, and eat yer vittels 1" 
 
 J5 An Old Man s Memory 
 
 THE delights of our childhood is soon passed away, 
 And our gloryus youth it departs, 
 And yit, dead and hurried, they s blossoms of May 
 
 Ore theyr medderland graves in our harts. 
 So, friends of my barefooted days on the farm, 
 
 Whether truant in city er not, 
 God prosper you same as He s prosperin* me, 
 Whilse your past hain t despised er forgot. 
 
 Oh ! they s nothin , at morn, that s as grand unto me 
 
 As the glorys of Natchur so fare, 
 With the Spring in the breeze, and the bloom in the trees, 
 
 And the hum of the bees ev rywhare ! 
 The green in the woods, and the birds in the boughs, 
 
 And the dew spangled over the fields ; 
 And the bah of the sheep and the bawl of the cows 
 
 And the call from the house to your meals ! 
 
 Then ho ! f er your brekf ast ! and ho ! f er the toil 
 
 That waiteth alike man and beast ! 
 Oh ! it s soon with my team I ll be turnin up soil, 
 
 Whilse the sun shoulders up in the East 
 68 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Ore the tops of the ellums and beeches and oaks, 
 To smile his Godspeed on the plow, 
 
 And the furry and seed, and the Man in his need, 
 And the joy of the swet of his brow 1 
 
 Lines to Perfesser John Clark Rldpath 
 
 [Cumposed by A Old Friend of the Fambily sence way 
 back in the Forties, when they Settled nigh Fillntore, Put 
 nam County, this State, whare John was borned and growed 
 up, you might say, like the wayside flower.] 
 
 YOUR neghbors in the country, whare you come from, 
 hain t f ergot ! 
 
 We knowed you even better than your own-self, like as not. 
 We profissied your runnin -geers ud stand a soggy load 
 And pull her, purty stiddy, up a mighty rocky road : 
 We been a-watchin your career sence you could write your 
 
 name 
 But way you writ it first, I ll say, was jest a burnin 
 
 shame ! 
 Your "J. C." in the copy-book, and "Ridpath" mercy- 
 
 sakes ! 
 Quiled up and tide in dubble bows, lookt like a nest o 
 
 snakes ! 
 
 But you could read it, I suppose, and kindo gloted on 
 A-bein "/. C. Ridpath" when we only called you "John." 
 69 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But you d work s well as fool, and what you had to do was 
 
 done : 
 We ve watched you at the wood-pile not the wood-shed 
 
 wasent none, 
 And snow and sleet, and haulin , too, and lookin* after 
 
 stock, 
 And milkin , nights, and feedin* pigs, then turnin back the 
 
 clock, 
 
 So s you could set up studyin your Rethmatic, and fool 
 Your Parents, whilse a-piratin your way through winter 
 
 school I 
 And I ve heerd tell from your own folks you ve set and 
 
 baked your face 
 
 A-readin Plutark Slives all night by that old fi-er-place. 
 Yit, bout them times, the blackboard, onc t, had on it, I 
 
 tf^-clare, 
 "Yours truly, /. Clark Ridpath." And the teacher left 
 
 it thare ! 
 
 And they was other symptums, too, that pinted, plane as 
 
 day, 
 
 To nothin short of College! and one was the lovin way 
 Your mother had of cheerin you to efforts brave and 
 
 strong, 
 
 And puttin more faith in you, as you needed it along : 
 She d pat you on the shoulder, er she d grab you by the 
 
 hands, 
 And laugh sometimes, er cry sometimes. They s few that 
 
 understands 
 Jest what theyr mother s drivin at when they act that- 
 
 away ; 
 But I ll say this fer you, John-Clark, you answered, night 
 
 and day, 
 
 7Q 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 To ev ry trust and hope of hers and half your College 
 
 fame 
 Was battled fer and won fer her and glory of her name. 
 
 The likes of you at College! But you went thare. How 
 
 you paid 
 Your way nobody s astin but you worked, you hain t 
 
 afraid, 
 
 Your clothes was, more n likely, kindo out o style, perhaps, 
 And not as snug and warm as some at hid the other 
 
 chaps ; 
 But when it come to Intullect they tell me yourn was 
 
 dressed 
 
 A leetle mite siipcrber-like than any of the rest! 
 And there you stayed and thare you ve made your rickord, 
 
 fare and square 
 Tel now it s Fame at writes your name, approving ev ry- 
 
 whare 
 Not jibblets of it, nuther, but all John Clark Ridpath, 
 
 set 
 Plum at the dashboard of the whole-endurin Alfabet ! 
 
 J7 Us. Farmers in the Country 
 
 US farmers in the country, as the seasons go and 
 come, 
 
 Is purty much like other folks, we re apt to grumble some ! 
 The Spring s too back ard fer us, er too for ard ary one 
 We ll jaw about it anyhow, and have our way er none! 
 
 71 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The thaw s set in too suddent; er the frost s stayed in the 
 
 soil 
 Too long to give the wheat a chance, and crops is bound to 
 
 spoil. 
 The weather s eether most too mild, er too outrageous 
 
 rough, 
 And altogether too much rain, er not half rain enugh ! 
 
 Now what I d like and what you d like is plane enugh to 
 
 see: 
 
 It s jest to have old Providence drop round on you and me 
 And ast us what our views is first, regardin shine er rain, 
 And post em when to shet her off, er let her on again ! 
 And yit I d ruther, after all consider n other chores 
 I got on hands, a-tendin* both to my affares and yours 
 I d ruther miss the blame I d git, a-rulin* things up thare, 
 And spend my extry time in praise and gratitude and 
 
 prayer. 
 
AFTERWHILES 
 
 A Rome-Made Fairy Tale 
 
 BUD, come here to your uncle a spell, 
 And I ll tell you something you mustn t tell- 
 For it s a secret and shore- nuf true, 
 And maybe I oughtn t to tell it to you ! 
 But out in the garden, under the shade 
 Of the apple-trees, where we romped and played 
 Til! the moon was up, and you thought I d gone 
 Fast asleep, That was all put on ! 
 For I was a-watchin something queer 
 Coin on there in the grass, my dear ! 
 Way down deep in it, there I see 
 A little dude-Fairy who winked at me, 
 And snapped his fingers, and laughed as low 
 And fine as the whine of a mus-kee-to ! 
 I kept still watchin him closer and 
 I noticed a little guitar in his hand, 
 Which he leant g hist a little dead bee and laid 
 His cigarette down on a clean grass-blade, 
 And then climbed up on the shell of a snail 
 Carefully dusting his swallowtail 
 And pulling up, by a waxed web-thread, 
 This little guitar, you remember, I said ! 
 And there he trinkled and thrilled a tune, 
 "My Love, so Fair, Tans in the Moon !" 
 Till, presently, out of the clover-top 
 He seemed to be singing to, came, k pop I 
 
 73 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The purtiest, dainties* Fairy face 
 
 In all this world, or any place ! 
 
 Then the little ser nader waved his hand, 
 
 As much as to say, "We ll excuse you!" and 
 
 I heard, as I squinted my eyelids to, 
 
 A kiss like the drip of a drop of dew! 
 
 
 X 
 
 jp Old-Fashioned Roses 
 
 THEY ain t no style about em, 
 And they re sort o pale and faded, 
 Yit the doorway here, without em, 
 Would be lonesomer, and shaded 
 With a good eal blacker shadder 
 
 Than the morning-glories makes, 
 
 And the sunshine would look sadder 
 
 Per their good old-fashion sakes. 
 
 I like em cause they kind o 
 
 Sort o make a feller like em ! 
 And I tell you, when I find a 
 
 Bunch out whur the sun kin strike em, 
 It allus sets me thinkin 
 
 O the ones at used to grow 
 And peek in thro* the chinkin* 
 O the cabin, don t you know ! 
 
 And then I think o mother, 
 And how she ust to love em 
 
 When they wuzn t any other, 
 
 Less she found em up above em! 
 74 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And her eyes, afore she shut em, 
 Whispered with a smile and said 
 
 We must pick a bunch and putt em 
 In her hand when she wuz dead. 
 
 But, as I wuz a-sayin , 
 
 They ain t no style about em 
 Very gaudy er displayin , 
 
 But I wouldn t be without em 
 Cause I m happier in these posies, 
 
 And the hollyhawks and sich, 
 Than the hummin -bird at noses 
 In the roses of the rich. 
 
 40 Griggsby s Station 
 
 PAP S got his pattent-right, and rich as all creation ; 
 But where s the peace and comfort that we all had 
 
 before? 
 
 Lc s go a-visitin back to Griggsby s Station 
 Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore ! 
 
 The likes of us a-livin here ! It s jest a mortal pity 
 
 To see us in this great big house, with cyarpets on the 
 
 stairs, 
 And the pump right in the kitchen! And the city! city! 
 
 city! 
 And nothin but the city all around us ever wheres ! 
 
 75 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Climb clean above the roof and look from the steeple, 
 And never see a robin, nor a beech or ellum tree ! 
 
 And right here in ear-shot of at least a thousan people, 
 And none that neighbors with us or we want to go and 
 see! 
 
 Le s go a-visitin back to Griggsby s Station 
 
 Back where the latch-string s a-hangin* from the door, 
 
 And ever neighbor round the place is dear as a relation- 
 Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore ! 
 
 I want to see the Wiggenses, the whole kit-and-bilin , 
 A-drivin up from Shallor Ford to stay the Sunday 
 
 through ; 
 And I want to see em hitchin* at their son-in-law s and 
 
 pilin* 
 Out there at Lizy Ellen s like they ust to do ! 
 
 I want to see the piece-quilts the Jones girls is makin ; 
 And I want to pester Laury bout their freckled hired 
 
 hand, 
 And joke her bout the widower she come purt nigh 
 
 a-takin , 
 
 Till her Pap got his pension lowed in time to save his 
 land. 
 
 Le s go a-visitin back to Griggsby s Station 
 Back where they s nothin aggervatin any more, 
 
 Shet away safe in the woods around the old location 
 Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore I 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 1 want to see Marindy and he p her with her sewin , 
 
 And hear her talk so lovin of her man that s dead and 
 
 gone, 
 
 And stand up with Emanuel to show me how he s growin , 
 And smile as I have saw her fore she putt her mournin 
 on. 
 
 And I want to see the -Samples, on the old lower eighty, 
 Where John, our oldest boy, he was tuk and hurried for 
 
 His own sake and Katy s and I want to cry with Katy 
 As she reads all his letters over, writ from The War. 
 
 , ,,-:- lib ?^ t -r. \-A 3tlj eA A 
 
 What s in all this grand life and high situation, 
 
 And nary pink nor hollyhawk a-bloomin at the door ? 
 
 Le s go a-visitin back to Griggsby s Station- 
 Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore ! 
 
 Knee-Deep in June 
 
 TELL you what I like the best 
 Long about knee-deep in June, 
 Bout the time strawberries melts 
 On the vine, some afternoon 
 Like to j es git out and rest, 
 
 And not work at nothin* else ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Orchard s where I d ruther be 
 Needn t fence it in f er me ! 
 
 Jes the whole sky overhead, 
 And the whole airth underneath* 
 Sort o so s a man kin breathe 
 
 Like he ort, and kind o has 
 Elbow-room to keerlessly 
 
 Sprawl out len thways on the grass 
 Where the shadders thick and soft 
 
 As the kivvers on the bed 
 
 Mother fixes in the loft 
 Allus, when they s company 1 
 
 in 
 
 Jes a-sort o lazin there 
 S lazy, at you peek and peer 
 Through the wavin* leaves above, 
 Like a feller at s in love 
 And don t know it, ner don t keer ! 
 Ever thing you hear and see 
 Got some sort o interest 
 Maybe find a bluebird s nest 
 Tucked up there conveenently 
 Fer the boy at s ap to be 
 Up some other apple-tree ! 
 Watch the swallers skootin past 
 Bout as peert as you could ast ; 
 Er the Bob-white raise and whiz 
 Where some other s whistle is. 
 78 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 IV 
 
 Ketch a shadder down below, 
 And look up to find the crow 
 Er a hawk, away up there, 
 Tearantly jroze in the air ! 
 
 Hear the old hen squawk, and squat 
 
 Over ever chick she s got, 
 Suddent-like ! and she knows where 
 
 That-air hawk is, well as you ! 
 
 You jes bet yer life she do! 
 Eyes a-glitterin like glass, 
 Waitin till he makes a pass ! 
 
 Fee-wees singin , to express 
 
 My opinion, s second class, 
 Yit you ll hear em more er less ; 
 Sapsucks gittin down to biz, 
 Weedin out the lonesomeness ; 
 Mr. Bluejay, full o sass, 
 
 In them base-ball clothes o* hcs, 
 Sportin round the orchard jes 
 Like he owned the premises ! 
 
 Sun out in the fields kin sizz, 
 But flat on yer back, I guess, 
 
 In the shade s where glory is ! 
 That s jes what I d like to do 
 Stiddy f er a year er two ! 
 
 79 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 VI 
 
 Plague ! ef they ain t somepin in 
 Work at kind o goes ag in 
 My convictions ! long about 
 Here in June especially ! 
 Under some old apple-tree, 
 
 Jes a-restin through and through,, 
 I could git along without 
 Nothin else at all to do 
 Only jes a-wishin* you 
 Wuz a-gittin there like me, 
 And June was eternity ! 
 
 VII 
 
 Lay out there and try to see 
 Jes how lazy you kin be ! 
 
 Tumble round and souse yer head 
 In the clover-bloom, er pull 
 
 Yer straw hat acrost yer eyes 
 And peek through it at the skies, 
 Thinkin of old chums at s dead, 
 
 Maybe, smilin back at you 
 In betwixt the beautiful 
 
 Clouds o* gold and white and blue!- 
 Month a man kin railly love 
 June, you know, I m talkin* of ! 
 
 So 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 VIII 
 
 March ain t never nothin* new ! 
 Aprile s altogether too 
 
 Brash fer me! and May I jes 
 Bominate its promises, 
 Little hints o sunshine and 
 Green around the timber-land 
 A few blossoms, and a few 
 Chip-birds, and a sprout er two, 
 >.fb Drap asleep, and it turns in 
 
 Fore daylight and snows ag in ! 
 But when June comes Clear my th oat 
 
 With wild honey ! Rench my hair 
 In the dew ! and hold my coat ! 
 
 Whoop out loud ! and th ow my hat !- 
 June wants me, and I m to spare! 
 Spread them shadders anywhere, 
 I ll git down and waller there, 
 And obleeged to you at that ! 
 
 42 When the Hearse Comes Back 
 
 \ THING at s bout as tryin as a healthy man kin meet 
 /\ Is some poor feller s funeral a-joggin long the street : 
 The slow hearse and the hosses slow enough, to say the 
 
 least, 
 
 Fer to even tax the patience of the gentleman deceased ! 
 The low scrunch of the gravel and the slow grind of the 
 
 wheels, 
 The slow, slow go of ev ry woe at ev rybody feels ! 
 
 81 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 So I ruther like the contrast when I hear the whip-lash 
 
 crack 
 A quickstep fer the hosses, 
 
 When the 
 
 Hearse 
 
 Comes 
 
 Back! 
 
 Meet it goin to ards the cimet ry, you ll want to clrap yer 
 
 eyes 
 
 But ef the plumes don t fetch you, it ll ketch you other 
 wise 
 
 You ll haf to see the caskit, though you d ort to look away 
 And conomize and save yer sighs fer any other day I 
 Yer sympathizin won t wake up the sleeper from his rest 
 Yer tears won t thaw them hands o his at s froze acrost 
 
 his hreast! 
 And this is why when airth and sky s a-gittin blurred and 
 
 black 
 I like the flash and hurry 
 
 When the 
 
 Hearse 
 
 Comes 
 
 Back! 
 
 It s not cause I don t predate it ain t no time fer jokes, 
 Ner cause I got no common human f eelin fer the folks ; 
 I ve went to funerals mys ef, and tuk on some, perhaps 
 Fer my heart s bout as mal able as any other chap s, 
 I ve buried father, mother But I ll haf to jes git you 
 To "excuse me" as the feller says. The p int I m drivin to 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Is, simply, when we re plum broke down and all knocked 
 
 out o whack, 
 It he ps to shape us up, like, 
 
 When the 
 
 Hearse 
 
 Comes 
 
 Back! 
 
 The idy ! wadin round here over shoe-mouth deep in woe, 
 When they s a graded pike o joy and sunshine, don t you 
 
 know ! 
 When evening strikes the pastur , cows ll pull out fer the 
 
 bars, 
 And skittish-like from out the night ll prance the happy 
 
 stars. 
 
 And so when my time comes to die, and I ve got ary friend 
 At wants expressed my last request I ll, mebby, rickom- 
 
 mend 
 
 To drive slow, ef they haf to, goin long the out ard track, 
 But I ll smile and say, "You speed em 
 When the 
 
 Hearse 
 
 Comes 
 
 Back !" 
 
 A Canary at the Farm 
 
 FOLKS has be n to town, and Sahry 
 Fetched er home a pet canary, 
 And of all the blame , contrary, 
 Aggervatin things alive! 
 
 83 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I love music that s I love it 
 When it s free and plenty of it; 
 But I kindo git above it, 
 At a dollar-eighty-five ! 
 
 Reason s plain as I m a-sayin%-^ 
 Jes* the idy, now, o layin* 
 Out yer money, and a-payin* 
 
 Fer a wilier-cage and bird, 
 When the medder-larks is wingin* 
 Round you, and the woods is ringin 9 
 With the beautifullest singin 
 
 That a mortal ever heard ! 
 
 Sahry s sot, tho . So I tell her 
 
 He s a purty little feller, 
 
 With his wings o* creamy-yeller, 
 
 And his eyes keen as a cat; 
 And the twitter o the critter 
 Pears to absolutely glitter ! 
 Guess I ll haf to go and git her 
 
 A high-priceter cage n that! 
 
 A Liz-Town Humorist 
 
 O ETTIN round the stove, last night, 
 
 ^-^ Down at Wess s store, was me 
 
 And Mart Strimples, Tunk, and White, 
 
 And Doc Bills, and two er three 
 
 Fellers o the Mudsock tribe 
 
 No use tryin* to describe ! 
 
 And says Doc, he says, says he, 
 
 84 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "Talkin* bout good things to eat, 
 Ripe mushmillon s hard to beat !" 
 
 I chawed on. And Mart he lowed 
 Wortermillon beat the mush. 
 "Red," he says, "and juicy Hush! 
 I ll jes leave it to the crowd !" 
 Then a Mudsock chap, says he, 
 "Punkin s good enough fer me 
 Punkin pies, I mean," he says, 
 "Them beats trillions ! What say, Wess T 
 
 I chawed on. And Wess says, "Well, 
 
 You jes fetch that wife of mine 
 
 All yer wortermillon-nw^ 
 
 And she ll bile it down a spell 
 
 In with sorghum, I suppose, 
 
 And what else, Lord only knows ! 
 
 But I m here to tell all hands 
 
 Them p serves meets my demands !" 
 
 I chawed on. And White he says, > 
 "Well, I ll jes stand in with Wess 
 I m no hog !" And Tunk says, "I 
 Guess I ll pastur out on pie 
 With the Mudsock boys !" says he ; 
 "Now what s yourn ?" he says to me : 
 I chawed on fer quite a spell 
 Then I speaks up, slow and dry, 
 "Jes tobacker !" I-says-I. 
 And you d ort o heerd em yell ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Kingry s Mill 
 
 ON old Brandywine about 
 Where White s Lots is now laid ou 
 And the old crick narries down 
 To the ditch that splits the town, 
 Kingry s Mill stood. Hardly see 
 Where the old dam ust to be ; 
 Shallor, long, dry trought o grass 
 Where the old race ust to pass ! 
 
 That s be n forty years ago 
 Forty years o frost and. snow 
 Forty years o shade and shine 
 Sence them boyhood-days o mine ! 
 All the old landmarks o town 
 Changed about, er rotted down ! 
 Where s the Tanyard? Where s the Still? 
 Tell me where s old Kingry s Mill? 
 
 Don t seem furder back, to me, 
 
 I ll be dogg d ! than yisterd y, 
 
 Since us fellers, in bare feet 
 
 And straw hats, went through the wheat 
 
 Cuttin crost the shortest shoot 
 
 Fer that-air old ellum root 
 
 Jest above the mill-dam where 
 
 The blame cars now crosses there ! 
 
 86 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Through the willers down the crick 
 We could see the old mill stick 
 Its red gable up, as if 
 It jest knowed we d stol d the skiff! 
 See the winders in the sun 
 Blink like they wuz wunderun 
 What the miller ort to do 
 With sich boys as me and you ! 
 
 But old Kingry ! who could fear 
 That old chap, with all his cheer? 
 Leanin at the winder-sill, 
 Er the half-door o the mill, 
 Swappin lies, and pokin fun, 
 N jigglin* like his hoppers done 
 Laughin grists o gold and red 
 Right out o the wagon-bed ! 
 
 What did he keer where we went?- 
 "Jest keep out o devilment, 
 And don t fool around the belts, 
 Bolts, ner burrs, ner nothin else 
 Bout the blame machinery, 
 And that s all I ast !" says-ee. 
 Then we d climb the stairs, and play 
 In the bran-bins half the day! 
 
 Rickollect the dusty wall, 
 And the spider-webs, and all ! 
 Rickollect the trimblin spout 
 Where the meal come josslin out 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Stand and comb yer fingers through 
 The fool-truck an hour er two- 
 Felt so sort o warm-like and. 
 Soothin to a feller s hand ! 
 
 Climb, high up above the stream, 
 And "coon" out the wobbly beam 
 And peek down from out the lof 
 Where the weather-boards was off- 
 Gee-mun-nee! w y, it takes grit 
 Even jest to think of it! 
 Lookin way down there below 
 On the worter roarin so ! 
 
 Rickollect the flume, and wheel, 
 And the worter slosh and reel 
 And jest ravel out in froth 
 Flossier n satin cloth! 
 Rickollect them paddles jest 
 Knock the bubbles galley-west, 
 And plunge under, and come up, 
 Drippin like a worter-pup ! 
 
 And, to see them old things gone 
 That I onc t was bettin on, 
 In rale p int o fact, I feel 
 Kind o like that worter-wheel, 
 Sort o drippy-like and wet 
 Round the eyes but paddlin yet, 
 And, in mem ry, loafin still 
 Down around old Kingry s Milll 
 
 88 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 46 Joney 
 
 HAD a harelip Joney had : 
 Spiled his looks and Joney knowed it 
 Fellers tried to bore him, bad 
 But ef ever he got mad, 
 
 He kep still and never showed it. 
 Druther have his mouth all pouted 
 
 And split up, and like it wuz, 
 Than the ones at laughed about it. 
 Purty is as purty does ! 
 
 Had to listen ruther clos t 
 
 Fore you knowed what he wuz givin* 
 You ; and yet, without no boast, 
 Joney he wuz jest the most 
 
 Entertainin talker livin ! 
 Take the Scriptur s and run through em, 
 
 Might say, like a auctioneer, 
 And ud argy and review em 
 
 At wuz beautiful to hear ! 
 
 Harelip and impediment, 
 
 Both wuz bad and both ag in him 
 But the old folks where he went, 
 Feared like, knowin his intent, 
 
 Scused his mouth fer what wuz in him. 
 And the childern all loved Joney 
 
 And he loved em back, you bet ! 
 Putt their arms around him on y 
 
 None had ever kissed him yet! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 In young company, someway, 
 
 Boys ud grin at one another 
 On the sly ; and girls ud lay 
 Low, with nothin much to say, 
 
 Er leave Joney with their mother. 
 Many and many a time he s fetched em 
 
 Candy by the paper-sack, 
 And turned right around and ketched em 
 
 Makin mouths behind his back! 
 
 S prised, sometimes, the slurs he took. 
 
 Chap said onc t his mouth looked sorter 
 Like a fish s mouth ud look 
 When he d be n jerked off the hook 
 
 And plunked back into the worter. 
 Same durn feller it s su prisin , 
 
 But it s facts at stood and cherred 
 From the bank that big babtizin 
 
 Pike-bridge accident occurred! 
 
 Cherred for Joney while he give 
 
 Life to little childern drowndin l 
 Which wuz fittenest to live 
 Him at cherred, er him at div* 
 
 And saved thirteen lives? . . . They found one 
 Body, three days later, floated 
 
 Down the by-o, eight mile south, 
 All so colored-up and bloated 
 
 On y knowed him by his mouth 1 
 
 9 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Had a harelip Joney bad- 
 Folks at filed apast all knowed it. 
 
 Them at ust to smile looked sad, 
 
 But ef he thought good er bad, 
 He kep still and never showed it. 
 
 Druther have that mouth, all pouted 
 And split up, and like it wuz, 
 
 Than the ones at laughed about it.-^ 
 Purty is as purty does ! 
 
 Granny 
 
 RANNY S come to our house, 
 
 And ho ! my lawzy-daisy ! 
 All the childern round the place 
 
 Is ist a-runnin crazy ! 
 Fetched a cake f er little Jake, 
 
 And fetched a pie fer Nanny, 
 And fetched a pear fer all the pack 
 That runs to kiss their Granny 1 
 
 Lucy Ellen s in her lap, 
 
 And Wade and Silas Walker 
 Both s a-ridin on her foot, 
 
 And Polios on the rocker ; 
 And Marthy s twins, from Aunt Marinn s, 
 
 And little Orphant Annie, 
 All s a-eatin gingerbread 
 
 And giggle-un at Granny I 
 
 91 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Tells us all the fairy tales 
 
 Ever thought er wundered 
 And bundance o other, stories -> 
 
 Bet she knows a hunderd ! 
 Bob s the one fer "Whittington," 
 
 And "Golden Locks" fer Fanny! 
 Hear em laugh and clap their hands, 
 
 Listenin at Granny! 
 
 "Jack the Giant-Killer" s good; 
 
 And "Bean-Stalk" s another! 
 So s the one of "Cinderell " 
 
 And her old godmother ; 
 That-un s best of all the rest 
 
 Bestest one of any, 
 Where the mices scampers home 
 
 Like we runs to Granny ! 
 
 Granny s come to our house, 
 
 Ho ! my lawzy-daisy ! 
 All the childern round the place 
 
 Is ist a-runnin crazy! 
 Fetched a cake fer little Jake, 
 
 And fetched a pie fer Nanny, 
 And fetched a pear fer all the pack 
 
 That runs to kiss their Granny! 
 
 92 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 48 The Train-Misser 
 
 AT UNION STATION 
 
 TL where in the world my eyes has bin 1 
 -Lj Ef I hain t missed that train ag inl 
 Chuff ! and whistle ! and toot ! and ring ! 
 But blast and blister the dasted train ! 
 How it does it I can t explain ! 
 Git here thirty-five minutes before 
 The durn thing s due ! and, drat the thing! 
 It ll manage to git past shore 1 
 
 The more I travel around, the more 
 I got no sense ! To stand right here 
 And let it beat me ! LI ding my melts 1 
 I got no gumption, ner nothin else ! 
 Ticket Agent s a dad-burned bore ! 
 Sell you a ticket s all they keer I* 
 Ticket Agents ort to all be 
 Prosecuted and that s jes what! 
 How d I know which train s fer me? 
 And how d I know which train was not? 
 Goern and comin and gone astray, 
 And backin* and switchin ever -which-way ! 
 
 Ef I could jes sneak round behind 
 Myse f, where I could git full swing, 
 I d lift my coat, and kick, by jing! 
 Till I jes got jerked up and fined ! 
 
 "/! *3 
 
 93 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Fer here I stood, as a durn fool s apt 
 To, and let that train jes chuff and choo 
 Right apast me and mouth jes gapped 
 Like a blamed old sandwitch warped in two ! 
 
 49 Like His Mother Used to Make 
 "UNCLE JAKE S PLACE," ST. jo, MISSOURI, 1874 
 
 "T WAS born in Indiany," says a stranger lank and slim, 
 JL As us fellers in the restarunt was kind o guyin him, 
 And Uncle Jake was slidin* him another punkin pie 
 And a* extry cup o coffee, with a twinkle in his eye, 
 "I was born in Indiany more n forty year ago 
 And I hain t be n back in twenty and I m workin back- 
 
 ards slow ; 
 
 But I ve et in ever* restarunt twixt here and Santy Fee, 
 And I want to state this coffee tastes like gittin home, to 
 
 me! 
 
 "Pour us out another, Daddy," says the feller, warmin up, 
 A-speakin crost a saucerful, as Uncle tuk his cup, 
 "When I seed yer sign out yander," he went on, to Uncle 
 
 Jake,- 
 " Come in and git some coffee like yer mother used to 
 
 make 
 
 I thought of my old mother, and the Posey County farm, 
 And me a little kid ag in, a-hangm in her arm, 
 As she set the pot a-bilin , broke the eggs and poured em 
 
 And the feller kind o halted, with, a trimble in his chin : 
 
 94 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And Uncle Jake he fetched the feller s coffee back, and 
 
 stood 
 
 As solemn, f er a minute, as a undertaker would ; 
 Then he sort o turned and tiptoed to rds the kitchen door 
 
 and nex , 
 Here comes his old wife out with him, a-rubbin of her 
 
 specs 
 And she rushes fer the stranger, and she hollers out, "It s 
 
 him! 
 Thank God we ve met him comin ! Don t you know yer 
 
 mother, Jim?" 
 And the feller, as he grabbed her, says, "You bet I hain t 
 
 forgot^- 
 But," wipin of his eyes, says he, "yer coffee s mighty hotl" 
 
 50 Old October 
 
 
 
 LD October s purt nigh gone, 
 And the frosts is comin on 
 Little heavier every day 
 Like our hearts is thataway! 
 Leaves is changin overhead 
 Back from green to gray and red 
 Brown and yeller, with their stems 
 Loosenin on the oaks and e ms ; 
 And the balance of the trees 
 Gittin balder every breeze 
 Like the heads we re scratchin* on 1 
 Old October s purt nigh gone. 
 
 95 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I love Old October so, 
 I can t bear to see her go 
 Seems to me like losin some 
 Old-home relative er chum 
 Tears like sort o settin by 
 Some old friend at sigh by sigh 
 Was a-passin out o sight 
 Into everlastin night ! 
 Hickernuts a feller hears 
 Rattlin down is more like tears 
 Drappin* on the leaves below-^ 
 I love Old October so ! 
 
 Can t tell what it is about 
 Old October knocks me out ! 3 
 I sleep well enough at night 
 And the blamedest appetite 
 Ever mortal man possessed, 
 Last thing et, it tastes the best! 
 Warnuts, butternuts, pawpaws, 
 lies and limbers up my jaws 
 Fer raal service, sich as new 
 Pork, spareribs, and sausage, too.- 
 Yit, fer all, they s somepin bout 
 Old October knocks me out I 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 jj Jim 
 
 HE was jes a plain, ever -day, all-round kind of a jour.. 
 Consumpted-lookin but la ! 
 The jokeiest, wittiest, story-tellin , song-singin , laughin est 
 
 j oiliest 
 
 Feller you ever saw ! 
 Worked at jes coarse work, but you kin bet he was fin* 
 
 enough in his talk, 
 And his f eelin s too ! 
 Lordy ! ef he was on y back on his bench ag in to-day, 
 
 a-carryin* on 
 Like he ust to do 1 
 
 Any shopmate ll tell you there never was, on top o dirt, 
 
 A better f eller n Jim ! 
 You want a favor, and couldn t git it anywheres else 
 
 You could git it o him ! 
 Most free-heartedest man thataway in the world, I guess ! 
 
 Give up ever nickel he s worth 
 
 And, ef you d a-wanted it, and named it to him, and it was 
 his, 
 
 He d a* give you the earth ! 
 
 Allus a-reachin out, Jim was, and a-he ppin some 
 
 Pore feller on to his feet 
 He d a never a keered how hungry he was hisse f, 
 
 So s the feller got somepin to eat\ 
 Didn t make no differ nce at all to him how he was dressed, 
 
 He ust to say to me, 
 
 "You togg out a tramp purty comfortable in winter-time, 
 a-huntin a job, 
 
 And he ll git along!" says he. 
 
 97 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Jim didn t have, ner never could git ahead, so overly much 
 
 O this world s goods at a time. 
 Fore now I ve saw him, more n onc t, lend a dollar, and 
 
 haf to, more n likely, 
 Turn round and borry a dime ! 
 Mebby laugh and joke about it hisse f fer a while then 
 
 jerk his coat, 
 
 And kind o square his chin, 
 
 Tie on his apern, and squat hisse f on his old shoe-bench, 
 And go to peggin ag in ! 
 
 Patientest feller, too, I reckon, at ever jes natchurly 
 
 Coughed hisse f to death ! 
 
 Long enough after his voice was lost he d laugh in a whis 
 per and say 
 
 He could git ever thing but his breath 
 "You fellers," he d sort o twinkle his eyes and say, 
 
 "Is a-pilin on to me 
 
 A mighty big debt fer that-air little weak-chested ghost o 
 mine to pack 
 
 Through all Eternity !" 
 
 Now there was a man at jes peared-like, to me, 
 
 At ortn t a never a died ! 
 "But death hain t a-showin no favors," the old boss said 
 
 "On y to Jim!" and cried: 
 
 And Wigger, who puts up the best sewed-work in the 
 shop 
 
 Er the whole blame neighberhood, 
 
 He says, "When God made Jim, I bet you He didn t do 
 anything else that day 
 
 But jes set around and feel good!" 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 52 A New Year s Time at Willards s 
 
 i 
 
 THE HIRED MAN TALKS 
 
 HP HERE S old man Willards; an his wife; 
 JL An Marg et S repty s sister; an 
 
 There s me an I m the hired man ; 
 An Tomps McClure, you bet yer life! 
 
 Well, now, old Willards hain t so bad, 
 
 Considerin the chance he s had. 
 
 Of course, he s rich, an sleeps an eats 
 Whenever he s a mind to : Takes 
 
 An leans back in the Amen-seats 
 
 An* thanks the Lord fer all he makes. 
 
 That s purty much all folks has got 
 
 Ag inst the old man, like as not ! 
 
 But there s his woman jes the turn 
 
 Of them-air two wild girls o hern 
 Marg et an S repty allus in 
 
 Fer any cuttin -up concern 
 Church festibals, and foolishin 
 
 Round Christmas-trees, an New Year s sprees- 
 Set up to watch the Old Year go 
 
 An New Year come sich things as these ; 
 An turkey-dinners, don t you know ! 
 
 99 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 S repty s younger, an more gay, 
 An purtier, an finer dressed 
 Than Marg et is but, lawsy-day ! 
 She hain t the independentest ! 
 "Take care !" old Willards used to say, 
 "Take care ! Let Marg et have her way, 
 An* S repty, you go off an play 
 On your melodeum !" But, best 
 
 Of all, comes Tomps ! An* I ll be bound, 
 Ef he hain t the beatin est 
 
 Young chap in all the country round ! 
 
 Ef you knowed Tomps you d like him, shore! 
 They hain t no man on top o ground 
 Walks into my affections more! 
 An* all the Settlement ll say 
 That Tomps was liked jes thataway 
 By ever body, till he tuk 
 
 A shine to S repty Willards. Then 
 You d ort o see the old man buck 
 An* h ist hisse f, an paw the dirt, 
 
 An* hint that "common workin -men 
 That didn t want their f eelin s hurt 
 
 Ud better hunt fer comp ny where 
 The folks was pore an didn t care !" 
 The pine-blank facts is, the old man, 
 Last Christmas was a year ago, 
 
 Found out some presents Tomps had got 
 Fer S repty, an hit made him hot 
 Set down an tuk his pen in hand 
 An* writ to Tomps an told him so 
 
 IOQ 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 On legal cap, in white an black, 
 An* give him jes to understand 
 
 "No Christmas-gifts o lily white 
 
 An bear s-ile could fix matters right/ 
 
 An wropped em up an sent em back! 
 Well, S repty cried an snuffled round 
 
 Consid able. But Marg et she 
 Toed out another sock, an wound 
 
 Her knittin up, an drawed the tea, 
 An then set on the supper-things, 
 An* went up in the !ot an dressed 
 An through it all you d never guessed 
 
 What she was up to ! An she brings 
 Her best hat with her an her shawl, 
 An gloves, an redicule, an all, 
 An injirubbers, an comes down 
 An tells em she s a-goin to town 
 
 To he p the Christmas goin s-on 
 Her Church got up. An go she does 
 The best hosswoman ever was ! 
 
 "An what ll WE do while you re gone ? " 
 The old man says, a-tryin to be 
 Agreeable. "Oh! you?" says she, 
 "You kin jaw S repty, like you did, 
 An slander Tomps !" An off she rid ! 
 
 Now, this is all I m goin to tell 
 Of this-here story that is, I 
 
 Have done my very level best 
 As fur as this, an here I "dwell," 
 As auctioneers says, winkin* sly : 
 
 Hit s old man Willards tells the rest. 
 
 101 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 THE OLD MAN TALKS 
 
 Adzackly jes one year ago, 
 
 This New Year s day, Tomps comes to me > 
 In my own house, an whilse the folks 
 Was gittin dinner, an he poke" 
 His nose right in, an says. ->ays he : 
 "I got yer note an re?--i it slow! 
 
 You don t like tie, ner I don t you" 
 He says, we re even there, you know I 
 But you ve said, f urder, that no gal 
 Of yourn kin marry me, er shall, 
 
 An I d best shet off comin , too !" 
 An* then he says, "Well, them s YOUR views ; s 
 But, havin talked with S repty, we 
 Have both agreed to disagree 
 
 With your peculiar notions some; 
 An that s the reason, I refuse 
 
 To quit a-comin here, but come 
 Not fer to threat, ner raise no skeer 
 An spile yer turkey-dinner here, 
 But jes fer S repty s sake, to sheer 
 Yer New Year s. Shall I take a cheer ? >l 
 
 Well, blame-don ! ef I ever see 
 Sich impidence ! I couldn t say 
 
 Not nary word ! But Mother she 
 Sot out a cheer fer Tomps, an they 
 
 Shuk hands an turnt their back on me. 
 
 Then I riz mad as mad could be ! 
 
 102 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But Marg et says, "Now, Pap ! you set 
 
 Right where you re settin ! Don t you fret ! 
 An , Tomps you warm yer feet!" says she, 
 
 "An throw yer mitts an comfert on 
 
 The bed there ! Where is S repty gone? 
 
 The cabbage is a-scortchin ! Ma, 
 
 Stop cryin there an stir the slaw !" 
 Well! what was Mother cryin fer? 
 
 I half riz up but Marg et s chin 
 
 Hit squared an I set down ag in 
 I allus was afeard o her, 
 I was, by jucks ! So there I set, 
 Betwixt a sinkin -chill an sweat, 
 An scuffled with my wrath an shet 
 My teeth to mighty tight, you bet ! 
 
 An yit, fer all that I could do, 
 I eeched to jes git up an whet 
 
 The carvin -knife a rasp er two 
 
 On Tomps s ribs an so would you ! 
 Fer he had riz an faced around, 
 
 An stood there, smilin , as they brung 
 The turkey in, all stuffed an browned 
 
 Too sweet fer nose er tooth er tongue ! 
 With sniffs o sage, an p r aps a dash 
 
 Of old burnt brandy, steamin -hot, 
 Mixed kind o in with apple-mash 
 
 An mince-meat, an the Lord knows v^at j 
 Nobody was a-talkin then, 
 
 To filiate any awk ardness 
 
 No noise o any kind but jes 
 The rattle o the dishes when 
 They d fetch em in an set em down 
 
 103 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An fix an* change em round an round, 
 
 Like women does till Mother says, 
 "Vittels is ready ; Abner, call 
 
 Down S repty she s up-stairs, I guess." 
 And Marg et she says, "Ef you bawl 
 Like that, she ll not come down at all ! 
 Besides, we needn t wait till she 
 Gits down ! Here, Tomps, set down by me, 
 
 An Pap : say grace !" . . . Well, there I was !- 
 What could I do ! I drapped my head 
 Behind my fists an groaned, an said : 
 
 "Indulgent Parent ! in Thy cause 
 
 We bow the head an* bend the knee, 
 An* break the bread, an* pour the wine, 
 Feelin " (The stair-door suddently 
 Went bang! an S repty flounced by me) 
 "Feelin ," I says, "this feast is Thine 
 
 This New Year s feast" an rap-rap-rap! 
 Went Marg et s case-knife on her plate 
 
 An* next, I heerd a sasser drap, 
 
 Then I looked up, an , strange to state, 
 There S repty set in Tomps s lap 
 
 An huggin him, as shore as fate ! 
 An Mother kissin him k-slap ! 
 An Marg et she chips in to drap 
 
 The ruther peert remark to me : 
 
 "That grace o yourn," she says, "won t gee 
 
 This hain t no New Year s feast, " says she, 
 "This is a INFAIR-Dinner, Pap!" 
 
 A.n so it was ! be n married f er 
 ]*urt nigh a week ! Twas Marg et planned 
 
 104 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The whole thing fer em, through an through. 
 I m rickonciled ; an , understand, 
 I take things jes as they occur, 
 
 Ef Marg et liked Tomps, Tomps ud do ! 
 But I-says-I, a-holt his hand, 
 "I m glad you didn t marry HER 
 Cause Marg et s my guardeen yes-sir! 
 An S repty s good enough fer you !" 
 
 Regardin Terry Hut 
 
 SENCE I tuk holt o Gibbses Churn 
 And be n a-handlin the concern, 
 I ve traveled round the grand old State 
 Of Indiany, lots, o late! 
 I ve canvassed Crawferdsville and sweat 
 Around the town o Layf ayette ; 
 I ve saw a many a County-seat 
 I ust to think was hard to beat : 
 At constant dreenage and expense 
 I ve worked Greencastle and Vincennei 
 Drapped out o Putnam into Clay, 
 Owen, and on down thataway 
 Plum into Knox, on the back-track 
 Fer home ag in and glad I m back ! 
 I ve saw these towns, as I say but 
 They s none at beats old Terry Hut ! 
 
 It s more n likely you ll insist 
 
 I claim this cause I m predjudist, 
 
 105 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Bein born d here in ole Vygo 
 
 In sight o Terry Hut ; but no, 
 
 Yer clean dead wrong ! and I maintain 
 
 They s nary drap in ary vein 
 
 O mine but what s as free as air 
 
 To jes take issue with you there! 
 
 Cause, boy and man, fer forty year, 
 
 I ve argied ag inst livin here, 
 
 And jawed around and traded lies 
 
 About our lack o enterprise, 
 
 And tuk and turned in and agreed 
 
 All other towns was in the lead, 
 
 When drat my melts ! they couldn t cut 
 
 No shine a-tall with Terry Hut ! 
 
 Take, even, statesmanship, and wit, 
 
 And ginerel git-up-and-git, 
 
 Old Terry Hut is sound clean through ! 
 
 Turn old Dick Thompson loose, er Dan 
 
 For^hees and where* s they any man 
 
 Kin even hold a candle to 
 
 Their eloquence ? And where s as clean 
 
 A fi-nan-seer as Rile* McKeen 
 
 Er puorer, in his daily walk, 
 
 In railroad er in racin stock ! 
 
 And there s Gene Debs a man at stands 
 
 And jes holds out in his two hands 
 
 As warm a heart as ever beat 
 
 Betwixt here and the Jedgment Seat ! 
 
 All these is reasons why I putt 
 
 Sich bulk o faith in Terry Hut. 
 
 106 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 So I ve come back, with eyes at sees 
 My faults, at last, to make my peace 
 With this old place, and truthful swear 
 Like Gineral Tom Nelson does, 
 "They hain t no city anywhere 
 On God s green earth lays over us !" 
 Our city government is grand 
 "Ner is they better farmin -land 
 Sun-kissed" as Tom goes on and says 
 "Er dower d with sich advantages I" 
 And I ve come back, with welcome tread, 
 From journeyin s vain, as I have said, 
 To settle down in ca m content, 
 And cuss the towns where I have went, 
 And brag on ourn, and boast and strut 
 Around the streets o Terry Hut! 
 
 4 Down on Wriggle Crick 
 
 Best time to kill a hog s when he s fat." OLD SAW. 
 
 MOSTLY, folks is law-abidin 
 Down on Wriggle Crick, 
 Seein they s no Squire residin* 
 
 In our bailywick ; 
 No grand juries, no suppeem es, 
 Ner no vested rights to pick 
 Out yer man, jerk up and jail ef 
 He s outragin Wriggle Crick! 
 
 107 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Wriggle Crick hain t got no lawin , 
 
 Ner no suits to beat ; 
 Ner no court-house gee-and-hawin 
 
 Like a County-seat; 
 Hain t no waitin round f er verdicks, 
 
 Ner non-gittin witness-fees ; 
 Ner no thiefs at gits "new hearin s," 
 
 By some lawyer slick as grease ! 
 
 Wriggle Crick s leadin spirit 
 
 Is old Johnts Culwell, 
 Keeps post-office, and right near it 
 
 Owns what s called "The Grand Hotel" 
 (Warehouse now) buys wheat and ships it: 
 
 Gits out ties, and trades in stock, 
 And knows all the high-toned drummers 
 
 Twixt South Bend and Mishawauk. 
 
 Last year comes along a feller 
 
 Sharper an a lance 
 Stovepipe-hat and silk umbreller, 
 
 And a boughten all-wool pants, 
 Tinkerin of clocks and watches ; 
 
 Says a trial s all he wants 
 And rents out the tavern-office 
 
 Next to Uncle Johnts. 
 
 Well. He tacked up his k dentials, 
 
 And got down to biz. 
 Captured Johnts by cuttin stenchils 
 
 Fer them old wheat-sacks o his.-* 
 
 108 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Fixed his clock, in the post-office 
 Painted fer him, clean and slick, 
 
 Crost his safe, in gold-leaf letters, 
 "J. Culwell s, Wriggle Crick." 
 
 Any kind o job you keered to 
 
 Resk him with, and bring, 
 He d fix fer you jes appeared to 
 
 Turn his hand to anything ! 
 Rings, er earbobs, er umbrellers 
 
 Glue a cheer er chany doll, 
 W y, of all the beatin fellers, 
 
 He jes beat em all! 
 
 Made his friends, but wouldn t stop there, e. 
 
 One mistake he learnt, 
 That was, sleepin in his shop there. 
 
 And one Sund y night it burnt ! 
 Come in one o jes a-sweepin 
 
 All the whole town high and dry 
 And that feller, when they waked him, 
 
 Suffocatin , mighty nigh ! 
 
 Johnts he drug him from the buildin , 
 
 He pless peared to be, 
 And the women and the childern 
 
 Drenchin him with sympathy! 
 But I noticed Johnts helt on him 
 
 With a extry lovin grip, 
 And the men-folks gathered round him 
 
 In most warmest pardnership ! 
 i^l i!r:iM.rrj ^hiw : .zi ilorffi^T nv/uT slMil^rf 
 
 109 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 That s the whole mess, grease-and-dopin ! 
 
 Johnts s safe was saved 
 But the lock was found sprung open, 
 
 And the inside caved. 
 Was no trial ner no jury 
 
 Ner no jedge ner court-house-click. 
 Circumstances alters cases 
 
 Down on Wriggle Crick ! 
 
 55 The Little Town o Tailholt 
 
 YOU kin boast about yer cities, and their stiddy growth 
 and size, 
 
 And brag about yer County-seats, and business enterprise, 
 And railroads, and factories, and all sich foolery 
 But the little Town o Tailholt is big enough f er me ! 
 
 You kin harp about yer churches, with their steeples in the 
 
 clouds, 
 And gas about yer graded streets, and blow about yer 
 
 crowds ; 
 You kin talk about yer "Waters," and all you ve got to 
 
 see 
 But the little Town o Tailholt is show enough f er me ! 
 
 They hain t no style in our town hit s little-like and 
 
 small 
 They hain t no "churches," nuther, jes the meetin -house 
 
 is all ; 
 They s no sidewalks, to speak of but the highway s allus 
 
 free, 
 
 And the" little Town o Tailholt is wide enough fer me! 
 no 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Some find it discommodin -like, I m willing to admit, 
 To hev but one post-office, and a womern keepin hit, 
 And the drug-store, and shoe-shop, and grocery, all three 
 But the little Town o Tailholt is handy nough fer me ! 
 
 You kin smile and turn yer nose up, and joke and hev yer 
 
 fun, 
 
 And laugh and holler "Tail-holts is better holts n none !" 
 Ef the city suits you better, w y, hit s where you d ort o 
 
 be- 
 But the little Town o Tailholt s good enough fer me ! 
 
 56 Little Orphant Annie 
 
 E TTLE Orphant Annie s come to our house to stay, 
 An wash the cups an saucers up, an brush the 
 
 crumbs away, 
 An shoo the chickens off the porch, an dust the hearth, an 
 
 sweep, 
 An* make the fire, an bake the bread, an earn her board- 
 
 an -keep ; 
 
 An all us other childern, when the supper things is done, 
 We set around the kitchen fire an has the mostest fun 
 A-list nin to the witch-tales at Annie tells about, 
 An the Gobble-uns at gits you 
 Ef you 
 Don t 
 
 Watch 
 Out! 
 
 Ill 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn t say his prayers, 
 
 An when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs, 
 
 His Mammy heerd him holler, an his Daddy heerd him 
 
 bawl, 
 An* when they turn t the kivvers down, he wuzn t there at 
 
 all! 
 An* they seeked him in the rafter-room, an cubby-hole, an 
 
 press, 
 An seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an ever wheres, I 
 
 guess ; 
 
 But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an* round 
 about : 
 
 An the Gobble-uns 11 git you 
 Ef you 
 Don t 
 
 Watch. 
 Out! 
 
 <\n one time a little girl ud allus laugh and grin, 
 
 An make fun of ever one, an all her blood-an -kin ; 
 
 An wunst, when they was "company," an ole folks wuz 
 
 there, 
 
 She mocked em an shocked em, an* said she didn t care ! 
 An thist as she kicked her heels, an turn t to run an hide, 
 They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin by her 
 
 side, 
 An they snatched her through the ceilin fore she knowed 
 
 what she s about! 
 An the Gobble-uns 11 git you 
 Ef you 
 Don t 
 
 Watch 
 Out! 
 
 112 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue, 
 An the lamp-wick sputters, an the wind goes woo-oo! 
 An you hear the crickets quit, an the moon is gray, 
 An the lightnin -bugs in dew is all squenched away, 
 You better mind yer parunts, an yer teachurs fond an dear, 
 An churish them at loves you, an dry the orphant s tear, 
 An he p the pore an needy ones at clusters all about, 
 Er the Gobble-uns 11 git you 
 Ef you 
 Don t 
 
 Watch 
 Out! 
 
PIPES O PAN AT ZEKESBURY 
 
 57 Down Around the River 
 
 NOON-TIME and June-time, down around the river ! 
 Have to f urse with Lizey Ann but lawzy ! I f ergive 
 
 her! 
 
 Drives me off the place, and says at all at she s a-wishin , 
 Land o gracious ! time ll come I ll git enough o fishin ! 
 Little Dave, a-choppin wood, never pears to notice ; 
 Don t know where she s hid his hat, er keerin where his 
 
 coat is, 
 
 Specalatin , more n like, he hain t a-goin to mind me, 
 And guessin v/here, say twelve o clock, a feller d likely 
 find me. 
 
 Noon-time and June-time, down around the river ! 
 Clean out o sight o home, and skulkin under kivver 
 Of the sycamores, jack-oaks, and swamp-ash and ellum 
 Idies all so jumbled up you kin hardly tell em! 
 Tired, you know, but lovin it, and smilin jes to think at 
 Any sweeter tiredness you d fairly want to drink it. 
 Tired o fishin tired o fun line out slack and slacker 
 All you want in all the world s a little more tobacker ! 
 
 Hungry, but a-hidin it, er jes a-not a-keerin : 
 Kingfisher gittin* up and skootin out o hearin ; 
 Snipes on the t other side, where the County Ditch is, 
 Wadin up and down the aidge like they d rolled their 
 britches ! 
 
 114 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Old turkle on the root kind o sort o drappin 
 Tntoo th worter like he don t know how it happen ! 
 Worter, shade and all so mixed, don t know which you d 
 
 orter 
 Say, th worter in the shadder shaddcr in the worter. 
 
 Somebody hollerin way around the bend in 
 Upper Fork where yer eye kin jes ketch the endin 
 Of the shiney wedge o wake some muss-rat s a-makin 
 With that pesky nose o his ! Then a sniff o bacon, 
 Corn-bread and dock-greens and little Dave a-shinnin 
 Crost the rocks and mussel-shells, a-limpin and a-grinnin , 
 With yer dinner fer ye, and a blessin from the giver. 
 Noon-time and June-time down around the river ! 
 
 5<? Romancin* 
 
 IB EN a-kindo "musin " as the feller says, and I m 
 About o the conclusion that they hain t no better time, 
 When you come to cipher on it, than the times we used to 
 
 know 
 
 When we swore our first "dog-gone-it" sorto solem -like 
 and low ! 
 
 You git my idy, do you ? Little tads, you understand 
 Jest a-wishin time and thue you that you on y wuz a man. 
 Yit here I am, this minute, even sixty, to a day, 
 And fergittin all that s in it, wishin jes the other way! 
 
 US 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I hain t no hand to lectur on the times, er demonstrate 
 Whare the trouble is, er hector and domineer with Fate, 
 But when I git so flurried, and so pestered-like and blue, 
 And so rail owdacious worried, let me tell you what I do ! 
 
 I jest gee-haw the hosses, and unhook the swingle-tree, 
 Whare the hazel-bushes tosses down theyr shadders over me, 
 And I draw my plug o navy, and climb the fence, and set 
 Jest a-thinkin* here, i gravy ; tel my eyes is wringin wet ! 
 
 Tho I still kin see the trouble o the presunt, I kin see 
 Kindo like my sight wuz double all the things that ust 
 
 to be; 
 
 And the flutter o the robin, and the teeter o the wren 
 Sets the wilier-branches bobbin "howdy-do" thum Now to 
 
 Then! 
 
 The deadnin and the thicket s jest a-bilin full of June, 
 Thum the rattle o the cricket, to the yallar-hammer s tune ; 
 And the catbird in the bottom, and the sap-suck on the 
 
 snag, 
 Seems ef they can t od-rot em! jest do nothin* else but 
 
 brag! 
 
 They s music in the twitter of the bluebird and the jay, 
 And that sassy little critter jest a-peckin all the day; 
 They s music in the "flicker," and they s music in the 
 
 thrush, 
 And they s music in the snicker o the chipmunk in the 
 
 brush ! 
 
 They s music all around me! And I go back, in a dream 
 Sweeter yit than ever found me fast asleep, and in the 
 stream 
 
 116 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 That ust to split the medder whare the dandylions growed 
 I stand knee-deep, and redder than the sunset down the 
 road. 
 
 Then s when I b en a-fishin ! and they s other fellers, too, 
 With theyr hickry poles a-swishin out behind em ; and a 
 
 few 
 Little "shiners" on our stringers, with theyr tails tiptoein* 
 
 bloom, 
 As we dance em in our fingers all the happy jurney home. 
 
 T kin see us, true to Natur , thum the time we started out 
 With a biscuit and a tater in our little "roundabout" ! 
 I kin see our lines a-tanglin , and our elbows in a jam, 
 And our naked legs a-danglin thum the apern o the dam. 
 
 I kin see the honeysuckle climbin up around the mill ; 
 And kin hear the worter chuckle, and the wheel a-growlin 
 
 still; 
 
 And thum the bank below it I kin steal the old canoe, 
 And jest git in and row it like the miller ust to do. 
 
 W y, I git my fancy focused on the past so mortal plain 
 I kin even smell the locus -blossoms bloomin in the lane ; 
 And I hear the cow-bells clinkin sweeter tunes n "Money- 
 musk" 
 Fer the lightnin -bugs a-blinkin and a-dancin in the dusk. 
 
 And when I ve kep* on "musin ," as the feller says, tel I m 
 Firm-fixed in the conclusion that they hain t no better time, 
 When you come to cipher on it, than the old times, I 
 
 de-clare, 
 I kin wake and say "dog- gone-it 3" jest as soft as anj 
 
 117 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Soniep n Common-Like 
 
 O OMEP N at s common-like, and good 
 
 ^-J And plain, and easy understood ; 
 
 Somep n at folks like me and you 
 
 Kin understand, and relish, too, 
 
 And find some sermint in at hits 
 
 The spot, and sticks and benefits. 
 
 We don t need nothin* extry fine; 
 
 Cause, take the run o minds like mine, r 
 
 And we ll go more on good horse-sense 
 
 Than all your flowery eloquence ; 
 
 And we ll jedge best of honest acts 
 
 By Nature s statement of the facts- 
 
 So when you re wantin to express 
 
 Your misery, er happiness, 
 
 Er anything at s wuth the time 
 
 O telling in plain talk er rhyme 
 
 Jes sort o let your subject run 
 
 As ef the Lord wuz listenun. 
 
 60 The Little Tiny Kickshaiv 
 
 " And any little tiny kickshazu." SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 E little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me, 
 JL Tis sweeter than the sugar-plum that reepeiis on the 
 
 tree, 
 
 Wi denty flavorin s o spice an musky rosemarie, 
 The little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me. 
 118 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Tis luscious wi the stalen tang o fruits frae ower the sea, 
 An e en its fragrance gars we laugh wi langin lip an ee, 
 Till a its frazen scheen o* white maun melten hinnie be 
 Sae weel I luve the kickshaw that Mither sent tae me. 
 
 I luve the tiny kickshaw, an* I smack my lips wi glee 
 Aye mickle do I luve the taste o sic a luxourie, 
 But maist I luve the luvein han s that could the giftie gie 
 the little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me. 
 
 61 The Stepmother 
 
 ,rrm[ j iiJ I mirl T>} nj(j< r tScii JB<J niirl y.&o~J 
 
 FIRST she come to our house, 
 Tommy run and hid ; 
 And Emily and Bob and me 
 
 We cried jus like we did 
 When Mother died, and we all said 
 
 At we all wisht at we was dead ! 
 ! ->A T>rUom itmw od oi J/I.K // zi lymocri lunw so oJ 1rt Vv 
 
 And Nurse she couldn t stop us, 
 
 And Pa he tried and tried, 
 We sobbed and shook and wouldn t look, 
 
 But only cried and cried ; 
 And nen some one we couldn t jus* 
 Tell who was cryin same as us ! 
 
 "!<dt laihom imIv/.3cToMij7/ !i I jfaomijvllwsd.Ql insW" 
 Our Stepmother ! Yes, it was her, 
 
 Her arms around us all 
 Cause Tom slid down the bannister 
 
 And peeked in from the hall. 
 And we all love her, too, because 
 She s purt nigh good as Mother was I 
 
 119 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 i\ ?Jiuil o gfusJ nslsla orf) iw euobeul efT 
 /<? <? JFViwr Mother Is 
 
 ^1 sinntrf n;>Jbm nujsnt oJirrw o nrcrbs rtdsjnl e)i .s HIT 
 
 WANT to be whur mother is! Want to be whur 
 mother is 1" 
 
 Jeemses Rivers ! won t some one ever shet that howl o* his ? 
 That-air yellin drives me wild ! 
 Cain t none of ye stop the child? 
 Want yer Daddy? "Naw." Gee whizz I 
 "Want to be whur mother is !" 
 
 "Want to be whur mother is ! Want to be whur mother is?" 
 Coax him, Sairy! Mary, sing somepin fer him! Lift him, 
 
 Liz- 
 Bang the clock-bell with the key 
 Er the mcat-axl Gee-mun-nee! 
 Listen to them lungs o his ! 
 "Want to be whur mother is !" 
 
 "Want to be whur mother is ! Want to be whur mother is !" 
 Jr readier guess ii pound all night on that old pulpit o his ; 
 
 Pears to me some wimmin jest 
 
 Shows religious interest 
 
 Mostly fore their f ambly s riz ! 
 
 "Want to be whur mother is !" 
 
 "Want to be whur mother is ! Want to be whur mother is !" 
 Nights like these and whipper wills allus brings that voice 
 of his 1 
 
 Sairy; Mary; Lizabeth; 
 
 Don t set there and ketch yer death 
 
 In the dew er rheumatiz 
 
 Want to be whur mother is? 
 
 120 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 fiwob i^rfa ^rfj bii ,qu bswoig sw na/IW 
 
 <5j Marthy Ellen 
 
 rpHEY S nothin in the name to strike 
 JL A feller more n common like ! 
 Taint liable to git no praise 
 Ner nothin like it nowadays ; 
 An* yit that name o her n is jest 
 As purty as the purtiest 
 And more n that, I m here to say 
 I ll live a-thinkin thataway 
 
 And die f er Marthy Ellen ! 
 
 It may be I was prejudust 
 In favor of it from the fust 
 Cause I kin ricollect jest how 
 We met, and hear her mother now 
 A-callin of her down the road 
 And, aggervatin little toad! 
 I see her now, jest sort o half- 
 Way disapp inted, turn and laugh 
 
 And mock her "Marthy Ellen ! 
 
 Our people never had no fuss, 
 
 And yit they never tuck to us ; 
 
 We neighbered back and foreds some ; 
 
 Until they see she liked to come 
 
 To our house and me and her 
 
 Was jest together ever whur 
 
 And all the time and when they d see 
 
 That I liked her and she liked me, 
 
 They d holler "Marthy Ellen !" 
 
 121 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 When we growed up, and they shet down 
 On me and her a-runnin roun 
 Together, and her father said 
 He d never leave her nary red, 
 So he p him, ef she married me, 
 And so on and her mother she 
 Jest agged the gyrl, and said she lowed 
 She d ruther see her in her shroud, 
 I writ to Marthy Ellen 
 
 That is, I kind o tuck my pen 
 
 In hand, and stated whur and when 
 
 The undersigned would be that night, 
 
 With two good hosses, saddled right 
 
 Fer lively travelin , in case 
 
 Her folks ud like to jine the race. 
 
 She sent the same note back, and writ 
 
 "The rose is red !" right under it 
 
 "Your n allus, Marthy Ellen." 
 
 That s all, I reckon Nothin more 
 To tell but what you ve heerd afore 
 The same old story, sweeter though 
 Fer all the trouble, don t you know. 
 Old-fashioned name! and yit it s jest 
 As purty as the purtiest; 
 And more n that, I m here to say 
 I ll live a-thinkin* that away, 
 
 And die fer Marthy Ellen! 
 
 r nsifw britr aniil $iti Iffi bnA 
 
 122 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 rtlfl bvfilld^O *vi I JJJ.H 
 
 Claus Wuz 
 
 JES a little bit o* feller I remember still, 
 Ust to almost cry fer Christmas, like a youngster will. 
 Fourth o July s nothin to it ! New-Year s ain t a smell : 
 Easter-Sunday Circus-Day jes all dead in the shell! 
 Lordy, though ! at night, you know, to set around and hear 
 The old folks work the story off about the sledge and deer, 
 And "Santy" skootin* round the roof, all wrapped in fur 
 
 and fuzz 
 Long afore 
 
 I knowed who 
 
 "Santy-Claus" wuzl 
 llsw 
 
 Ust to wait, and set up late, a week or two ahead : 
 Couldn t hardly keep awake, ner wouldn t go to bed : 
 Kittle stewin on the fire, and Mother settin here 
 Darnin socks, and rockin in the skreeky rockin -cheer ; 
 Pap gap , and wunder where it wuz the money weni, 
 And quar l with his frosted heels, and spill his liniment : 
 And me a-dreamin* sleigh-bells when the clock ud whir 
 
 and buzz, 
 Long afore 
 
 I knowed who 
 
 "Santy-Claus" wuz! 
 
 Size the fireplace up, and figger how "Old Santy" could 
 Manage to come down the chimbly, like they said he would : 
 Wisht that I could hide and see him wundered what he d 
 
 say 
 Ef he ketched a feller layin fer him thataway ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But I bet on him, and liked him, same as ef he had 
 Turned to pat me on the back and say, "Look here, my lad, 
 Here s my pack, jes he p yourse f, like all good boys 
 
 does !" 
 
 ,IIi}?,,i^kn5ms>i I i9ij3i o JiJ swti 2H 
 
 Long afore 
 
 I knowed who 
 
 "Santy-Claus" wuz ! 
 
 Wisht that yarn was true about him, as it peared to be 
 Truth made out o lies like that-un s good enough f er me ! 
 Wisht I still wuz so confidin* I could jes go wild 
 Over hangin up my stockin s, like the little child 
 Climbin in my lap to-night, and beggin me to tell 
 Bout them reindeers, and "Old Santy" that she loves so 
 
 well 
 
 I m half sorry fer this little-girl-sweetheart , of his 
 Long afore 
 
 She knows who 
 
 "Santy-Claus" is ! 
 
 bit ifji>I:> t>if) ii-jffv/ L-n^d-rfgbfa 
 
 Maw Jones 
 
 THIS man Jones was what you d call 
 A feller at had no sand at all; 
 Kind o consumpted, and undersize, 
 And sailor-complected, with big sad eyes, 
 And a kind-of-a sort-of-a hang-dog style, 
 And a sneakin sort-of-a half-way smile 
 At kind o give him away to us 
 As a preacher, maybe, er somepin* wuss. 
 
 124 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Didn t take with the gang well, no 
 
 But still we managed to use him, though,* 
 
 Coddin the gilly along the rout , 
 
 And drivin the stakes at he pulled out 
 
 Per I was one of the bosses then, 
 
 And of course stood in with the canvasmen ; 
 
 And the way we put up jobs, you know, 
 
 On this man Jones jes beat the show 1 
 
 1^ : - 
 
 Ust to rattle him scandalous, 
 And keep the feller a-dodgin us, 
 And a-shyin round half skeered to death, 
 And afeerd to whimper above his breath; 
 Give him a cussin , and then a kick, 
 And then a kind-of-a back-hand lick 
 Jes fer the fun of seein him climb 
 Around with a head on most the time. 
 
 But what was the curioust thing to me, 
 Was along o the party let me see, 
 Who was our "Lion Queen" last year ? 
 Mamzelle Zanty, or De La Pierre ? 
 Well, no matter a stunnin mash, 
 With a red-ripe lip, and a long eyelash, 
 And a figger sich as the angels owns 
 And one too many fer this man Jones. 
 
 !; \*H no bsfana bns byAw sri* *rv; fanA 
 He d allus wake in the afternoon, 
 As the band waltzed in on the lion-tune, 
 And there, from the time at she d go in 
 Till she d back out of the cage ajj in, 
 
 125 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 He d stand, shaky and limber-kneed 
 Specially when she come to "feed 
 The beasts raw meat with her naked hand"- 
 And all that business, you understand. 
 
 jisrfJ 298eotf 3flJ }<> - c jrro 8W I taft 
 
 And it was resky in that den 
 Fer I think she juggled three cubs then, 
 And a big "green" lion at used to smash 
 Collar-bones fer old Frank Nash; 
 And I reckon now she hain t fergot 
 The afternoon old "Nero" sot 
 His paws on her! but as fer me, 
 It s a sort-of-a mixed-up mystery: 
 
 ,>bi.}| fi imll bos /nlgguo & cnirf e> /iO 
 
 Kind o remember an awful roar, 
 And see her back fer the bolted door- 
 See the cage rock heerd her call 
 "God have mercy !" and that was all 
 Fer they ain t no livin man can tell 
 What it s like when a thousand yell 
 In female tones, and a thousand more 
 Howl in bass till their throats is sore ! 
 
 But the keeper said at dragged her out, 
 They heerd some feller laugh and shout 
 "Save her ! Quick ! I ve got the cuss !" 
 And yit she waked and smiled on us! 
 And we daren t flinch, fer the doctor said, 
 Seein as this man Jones was dead, 
 Better to jes not let her know 
 Nothin o that fer a week er so. 
 
 126 
 
tHE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 66 When the Green Gits Back in 
 the Trees 
 
 IN spring, when the green gits back in the trees, 
 And the sun comes out and stays, 
 And yer boots pulls on with a good tight squeeze, 
 
 And you think of yer barefoot days ; 
 When you ort to work and you want to not, 
 
 And you and yer wife agrees 
 It s time to spade up the garden-lot, 
 When the green gits back in the trees 
 Well! work is the least o my idees 
 When the green, you know, gits back in the trees ! 
 
 When the green gits back in the trees, and bees 
 
 T t . , , ,. 
 
 Is a-buzzin aroun ag in, 
 In that kind of a lazy go-as-you-please 
 
 Old gait they bum roun in ; 
 When the groun s all bald where the hay-rick stood, 
 
 And the crick s riz, and the breeze 
 Coaxes the bloom in the old dogwood, 
 And the green gits back in the trees, 
 I like, as I say, in sich scenes as these, 
 The time when the green gits back in the trees I 
 ; vButi airf las ted t *oa on i nis j>rf H 3 oor!i-2i9li2 Jii?. 
 When the whole tail-feathers o Winter-time 
 
 Is all pulled out and gone ! 
 And the sap it thaws and begins to climb, 
 
 And the swet it starts out on 
 . .t>T5i{) inlly} srb ffoJs^I o) 13} ni&ri9D drmto ^Iiurioijsn b uoY 
 
 127 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 A feller s forred, a-gittin down 
 
 At the old spring on his knees 
 1 kindo like jest a-loaferin roun 
 
 When the green gits back in the trees 
 Jest a-potterin roun as I durn please 
 When the green, you know, gits back in the trees ! 
 
 of i^o JJOY rwi 
 a: rj}iw iT{- IHIS ncr/ bnA 
 67 Doc Sifers 
 
 OF all the doctors I could cite you to in this- ere town 
 Doc Sifers is my favorite, jes take him up and down! 
 Count in the Bethel Neighberhood, and Rollins, and Big 
 
 Bear, 
 And Sifers standin s jes as good as ary doctor s there! 
 
 There s old Doc Wick, and Glenn, and Hall, and Wurgler, 
 
 and McVeigh, 
 
 But I ll buck Sifers g inst em all and down em any day ! 
 Most old Wick ever knowed, I s pose, was whisky! Wurg 
 
 ler well, 
 He et morphine ef actions shows, and facts reliable ! 
 
 ! 8397$ ail* ni >Lwf lis naarg ^tlt rpdw pmb $riT 
 But Sifers though he ain t no sot, he s got his faults; 
 
 and yit 
 When you git Sifers onc t, you ve got a doctor, don t 
 
 f ergit ! 
 
 He ain t much at his office, er his house, er anywhere 
 You d natchurly think certain f er to ketch the feller there. 
 
 128 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But don t blame Doc: he s got all sorts o cur ous no 
 
 tions as 
 The feller says, his odd-come-shorts, like smart men 
 
 mostly has. 
 He ll more n like be potter n round the Blacksmith Shop ; 
 
 er in 
 Some back lot, spadin up the ground, er gradin it ag in. 
 
 Er at the work bench, planin things ; er buildin* little traps 
 To ketch birds; galvenizin rings; er graftin plums, per 
 
 haps. 
 
 Make anything ! good as the best ! a gun-stock er a flute ; 
 He whittled out a set o chesstmen onc t o laurel root, 
 
 Dunn* the Army got his trade o surgeon there I own 
 To-day a finger-ring Doc made out of a Sesesh bone! 
 An glued a fiddle onc t fer me jes all so busted you 
 D a throwed the thing away, but he fixed her as good as 
 
 new ! 
 
 ohwitffmwh :. 
 
 And take Doc, now, in ager, say, er biles, er rheumatis, 
 
 And all afflictions thataway, and he s the best they is ! 
 
 Er janders milksick I don t keer k-yore anything he 
 
 tries 
 A abscess ; getherin in yer yeer ; cr granilated eyes ! 
 
 There was the Widder Daubenspeck they all give up fer 
 
 dead ; 
 A blame cowbuncle on her neck, and clean out of her 
 
 head! 
 
 129 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 First had this doctor, what s-his-name, from "Puddles- 
 burg," and then 
 
 This little red-head, "Burnin Shame" they call him Dr. 
 Glenn. 
 
 And they "consulted" on the case, and claimed she d haf 
 
 to die, 
 
 I jes was joggin by the place, and heerd her dorter cry, 
 And stops and calls her to the fence ; and I-says-I, "Let me 
 Send Sifers bet you fifteen cents he ll k-yore licr !" 
 
 "Well," says she, 
 
 "Light out !" she says : And, lipp-tee-cut I loped in town, 
 
 and rid 
 Bout two hours more to find him, but I kussed him when 
 
 I did! 
 He was down at the Gunsmith Shop a-stuffin birds I Says 
 
 he, 
 "My sulky s broke." Says I, "You hop right on and ride 
 
 with me !" 
 
 I got him there. "Well, Aunty, ten days k-yores you," 
 
 Sifers said, 
 
 "But what s yer idy livin* when yer jes as good as dead?" 
 And there s Dave Banks jes back from war without a 
 
 scratch one day 
 Got ketched up in a sickle-bar, a reaper runaway. 
 
 His shoulders, arms, and hands and legs jes sawed in 
 strips ! And Jake 
 
 Dunn starts fer Sifers feller begs to shoot him fer God- 
 sake. 
 
 130 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Doc, course, was gone, but he had penned the notice, "At 
 
 Big Bear 
 Be back to-morry; Gone to tend the Bee Convention 
 
 there." 
 
 But Jake, he tracked him rid and rode the whole en- 
 
 durin* night ! 
 And bout the time the roosters crowed they both hove 
 
 into sight. 
 Doc had to ampitate, but greed to save Dave s arms, and 
 
 swore 
 He could V saved his legs ef he d b en there the day before. 
 
 Like when his wife s own mother died fore Sifers could 
 
 be found, 
 
 And all the neighbers fer and wide a* all jes chasin round ; 
 Tel finally I had to laugh it s jes like Doc, you know, 
 Was learnin fer to telegraph, down at the old deepo. 
 
 But all they re faultin Sifers fer, there s none of em kin 
 
 say 
 
 He s biggoty, er keerless, er not posted anyway ; 
 He ain t built on the common plan of doctors now-a-days, 
 He s jes a great, big, brainy man that s where the trouble 
 
 lays! 
 
 68 Whatever the Weather May Be 
 
 WHATEVER the weather may be," says he 
 "Whatever the weather may be, 
 It s plaze, if ye will, an I ll say me say, 
 Supposin to-day was the winterest day, 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Wud the weather be changing because ye cried, 
 Or the snow be grass were ye crucified ? 
 The best is to make yer own summer," says he, 
 "Whatever the weather may be," says he 
 "Whatever the weather may be ! 
 
 "Whatever the weather may be," says he 
 
 "Whatever the weather may be, 
 It s the songs ye sing, an the smiles ye wear, 
 That s a-makin the sun shine everywhere; 
 An the world of gloom is a world of glee, 
 Wid the bird in the bush, an the bud in the tree, 
 An* the fruit on the stim o the bough," says he, 
 "Whatever the weather may be," says he 
 
 "Whatever the weather may be ! 
 
 ,:>oCl 5>irf - s3{, g*ti rf;p.t?j?f o? hr.ri 1 
 "Whatever the weather may be," says he 
 
 "Whatever the weather may be, 
 Ye can bring the Spring, wid its green an* gold, 
 An* the grass in the grove where the snow lies cold ; 
 An* ye ll warm yer back, wid a smiling face, 
 As ye sit at yer heart, like an owld fireplace, 
 An* toast the toes o yer sowl," says he, 
 "Whatever the weather may be," says 
 
 "Whatever the weather may be !" 
 
 i v/ 3f!i anw vsb-o* V 
 132 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 _. Trr , TJ . - b l 
 
 60 The Way It Wuz 
 
 y j 
 
 iuods ?.^{. sir// bnA 
 
 LYS July-and, I persume 
 Bout as hot 
 As the ole Gran -jury room M b 
 
 Whare they sot !- 
 
 Fight twixt Mike an Doc McGreff . . j^ n 
 Pears to me jes like as ef 
 
 I d a-dremp the whole blame thing 
 
 Allus ha nts me roun the gizzard 
 When they s nightmares on the wing, 
 
 And a feller s blood s jes friz! 
 Seed the row from A to Izzard 
 Cause I wuz a-standin as clos t to em 
 As me and you is! 
 
 Tell you the way it wuz- 
 And I don t u>ant to see, 
 
 T M r 11 j 
 
 Like some fellers does, 
 
 When they s goern to be 
 Any kind o fuss 
 On y makes a rumpus wuss 
 
 Per to interfere 
 
 When theyr dander s riz- 
 
 Might as lif to cheer! 
 But I wuz a-standin as clos t to em 
 
 As me and you is! 
 
 xii >boG .irio b<)lbbr>iq?. HJG ,(bl bnA 
 
 I wuz kind o strayin 
 
 Past the b iame saloon 
 Heerd some fiddler playin 
 
 That ole "hce-cup tune !" 
 
 133 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I d stopped-\ike, you know, 
 Fer a minit er so, 
 
 And wuz jes about 
 Settin down, when Jeemses whizz! 
 
 Whole durn winder-sash fell out! 
 And there laid Doc McGreff, and Mike 
 A-straddlin him, all bloody-like, 
 
 And both a-gittin down to biz ! 
 And I wuz a-standin as clos t to em 
 
 As me and you is ! 
 
 I wuz the on y man aroun* 
 (Durn old-fogey town ! 
 Feared more like, to me, 
 
 o j> .1.1 o j. j> . \ 
 
 Sundy than Saturay!) 
 Dog come crost the road 
 And tuk a smell 
 
 And putt right back ; 
 Mishler driv by ith a load 
 
 O cantalo pes he couldn t sell 
 
 Too mad, i jack ! 
 To even ast 
 
 What wuz up, as he went past ! 
 Weather most outrageous hot ! 
 
 Fairly hear it sizz 
 
 Roun Dock and Mike till Dock he shot 
 And Mike he slacked that grip o his 
 And fell, all spraddled out. Dock riz 
 Bout half up, a-spittin red, 
 And shuck his head 
 And I wuz a-standin as clos t to em 
 As me and you is ! 
 
 134 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And Dock he says, 
 A-whisperin -like, 
 
 "It hain t no use 
 A-tryin ! Mike 
 
 He s jes ripped my daylig its loose! 
 Git that blame-don fiddler to 
 Let up, and come out here You 
 Got some burryin to do, 
 
 Mike makes one, and, I expects, 
 Bout ten seconds I ll make two!" 
 
 And he drapped back, whare he riz, 
 Crost Mike s body, black and blue, 
 
 Like a great big letter X! 
 And I wuz a-standin as clos t to em 
 As me and you is ! 
 
 bingfz fri A moT te bi>v/ond aw 
 
 Tom Johnson s Quit 
 
 ,xn o bnivl e>v/ ai-jfll briB n^rlJ l nA 
 
 A 
 
 PASSEL o the boys last night- 
 
 An me amongst em kind o got 
 To talkin Temper nce left an right, 
 An workin up "blue-ribbon," hot; 
 An while we was a-countin jes 
 
 How many lied gone into hit 
 An signed the pledge, some feller says,^ w 
 "Tom Johnson s quit !" 
 
 We laughed, of course cause Tom, you know, 
 Has spiled more whisky, boy an man, 
 
 And seed more trouble, high an* low, 
 Than any chap but Tom could stand : 
 
 135 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And so, says J, "He s too nigh dead 
 
 Per Temper nce to benefit!" 
 The feller sighed ag in, and said 
 "Tom Johnson s quit !" 
 
 vrn 
 We all liked Tom, an that was why 
 
 We sort o simmered down ag in, 
 And ast the feller ser ously 
 
 Ef he wa n t tryin to draw us in : 
 He shuck his head tuck off his hat 
 
 Helt up his hand an opened hit, 
 An says, says he, "I ll swear to that 
 Tom Johnson s quit !" 
 
 Well, we was stumpt, an* tickled too, 
 Because we knowed ef Tom hed signed 
 
 There wa n t no man at wore the "blue" 
 At was more honester inclined: 
 
 An then and there we kind o* riz, 
 The hull dern gang of us at bit 
 
 An th owed our hats and let er whizz, 
 "Tom Johnson s quit!" 
 
 I ve heerd em holler when the balls 
 Was buzzin round us wus n bees, 
 
 An when the ole flag on the walls 
 Was flappin o er the enemy s, 
 
 I ve heerd a-many a wild "hooray" 
 At made my heart git up an git 
 
 But Lord ! to hear em shout that way ! 
 "Tom Johnson s quit!" 
 
 s !)tt}3 bfuoD rnoT Jud qxih vnc neilT 
 136 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But when we saw the chap at fetched 
 
 The news wa n t jinin in the cheer, 
 But stood there solemn-like, an reched 
 
 An kind o wiped away a tear, 
 We someway sort o stilled ag in, 
 
 And listened-I kin hear him yit, 
 His voice a-wcbblin with his chin, 
 
 "Tom Johnson s quit- 
 
 jjvod 
 
 "I hain t a-givin you no game 
 
 I wisht I was ! ... An hour ago, 
 This operator what s his name 
 
 The one at works at night, you know ? 
 Went out to flag that Ten Express, 
 
 And sees a man in front of hit 
 Th ow up his hands an stagger yes, 
 
 Tom Johnson s quit." 
 * ?\ gvbfic bnK m zrnuJ /turn i)li 
 
 ,-. , oos 
 
 77 The Old Home by the Mill 
 
 THIS is "The old Home by the Mill" fer we still call 
 it so, 
 
 Although the old mill, roof and sill, is all gone long ago. 
 The old home, though, and old folks and the old spring, 
 
 and a few 
 Old cattails, weeds and hartychokes, is left to welcome 
 
 Here, Marg et, fetch the man a tin to drink out of! Our 
 
 spring 
 Keeps kindo -sorto cavin in, but don t "taste" anything 1 
 
 137 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 She s kindo agin , Marg et is "the old process," like me, 
 All ham-stringed up with rhumatiz, and on in seventy- 
 three. 
 
 , 
 
 Jes me and Marg et lives alone here like in long ago; 
 The childern all putt off and gone, and married, don t you 
 
 know? 
 One s millin way out West somewhare; two other miller- 
 
 boys 
 In Mim^opolis they air; and one s in Illinoise. 
 
 The oldest gyrl the first that went married and died 
 
 right here ; 
 The next lives in Winn s Settlement for purt nigh thirty 
 
 year ! 
 And youngest one was allus fer the old home here but 
 
 no! 
 Her man turns in and packs her way off to Idyho ! 
 
 I don t miss them like Marg et does cause I got her, you 
 
 see; 
 And when she pines for them that s cause she s only jes 
 
 got me! 
 
 I laugh, and joke her bout it all. But talkin* sense, I ll say, 
 When she was tuk so bad last Fall, I laughed then t other 
 
 way! 
 
 v/?l K hns 
 
 I hain t so favor ble impressed bout dyin ; but ef I 
 Found I was only second-best when us two come to die, 
 I d dopt the "new process," in full, ef Marg et died, you 
 
 see, 
 I d jes crawl in my grave and pull the green grass over 
 
 me! 
 
 138 
 
H ;IHT 
 
 ; R BOOK 
 
 bio DflJ aimniO ,^K?J b l 
 
 POEMS OF CHILDHOOD 
 
 s l :jiy ? t qt* bDv/oTg tn yov rrsr! // 
 Mo :nft .rfofreq-ngMjsrcg bio t>iIT 
 
 Uncle Sidney 
 
 .iUoTSMiiamofcj bio 3ffT 
 Q OMETIMES, when I bin bad, 
 ks3 An Pa "currecks" me nen, 
 An Uncle Sidney he comes here, 
 I m allus good again; 
 
 Cause Uncle Sidney says, 
 An takes me up an* smiles, 
 
 The goodest mcns they is ain t good 
 As baddcst little childs! 
 
 Waitin Per the Cat to Die 
 
 LWZY! don t I rickollect 
 That-air old swing in the lane ! 
 Right and proper, I expect, 
 
 Old times can t come back again ; 
 But I want to state, ef they 
 Could come back, and I could say 
 What my pick ud be, i jing! 
 I d say, Gimme the old swing 
 Nunder the old locus -trees 
 On the old place, ef you please! 
 Danglin there with half-shet eye, 
 Waitin f er the cat to die ! 
 
 139 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I d say, Gimme the old gang 
 
 O barefooted, hungry, lean, 
 Ornry boys you want to hang 
 
 When you re growed up twic t as mean! 
 The old gyarden-patch, the old 
 Truants, and the stuff we stol d ! 
 The old stompin -groun , where we 
 Wore the grass off, wild and free 
 As the swoop o the old swing, 
 Where we ust to climb and cling, 
 And twist roun , and fight, and lie 
 Waitin f er the cat to die ! 
 
 Pears like I most alms could 
 
 Swing the highest of the crowd 
 
 Jes sail up there tel I stood 
 
 Downside-up, and screech out loud, 
 
 Ketch my breath, and jes drap back 
 
 Per to let the old swing slack, 
 
 Yit my towhead dippin still 
 
 In the green boughs, and the chill 
 
 Up my backbone taperin down, 
 
 With my shadder on the groun 
 
 Slow and slower trailin by 
 
 Waitin f er the cat to die ! 
 
 Now my daughter s little Jane s 
 
 Got a kind o baby-swing 
 On the porch, so s when it rains 
 
 She kin play there little thing ! 
 And I d limped out t other day 
 With my old cheer thisaway, 
 
 140 
 
THE -ROOSTER BOOK 
 
 Swingin her and rockin too, 
 
 Thinkin how / ust to do 
 
 At her age, when suddently, 
 
 "Hey, Gran pap !" she says to me, 
 
 "Why you rock so slow?" . . . Says I, 
 
 "Waitin f er the cat to die !" 
 
 *nA 
 
 74 TVz? Happy Little Cripple 
 
 -6) Ilfi ."-/ ?"?-r;;I) jjs* m;l/f ttfttiLI srfT jrterB-trt iriJsW orfW" 
 
 I M thist a little crippled boy, an never goin to grow 
 An git a great big man at all ! cause Aunty told me so. 
 When I was thist a baby onc t I failed out of the bed 
 An got "The Curv ture of the Spine" at s what the Doc 
 tor said. 
 
 I never had no Mother nen fer my Pa runned away 
 An dassn t come back here no more cause he was drunk 
 
 one day 
 An stobbed a man in thish-ere town, an couldn t pay his 
 
 fine! 
 
 An nen my Ma she died an I got "Curv ture of the 
 Spine" ! 
 
 I m nine years old ! An you can t guess how much I weigh, 
 
 I bet! 
 Last birthday I weighed thirty-three! An* I weigh thirty 
 
 flit i yet! I Imrw <tdl mln 
 I m awful little fer my size I m purt nigh littler nan 
 
 Some babies is ! an neighbers all calls me "The Little 
 Man" ! 
 
 141 
 
TOE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An Doc one time he laughed an said : "I spect, first thing 
 
 you know, 
 
 You ll have a little spike-tail coat an travel with a show !" 
 An* nen I laughed till I looked round an Aunty was 
 
 a-cryin 
 Sometimes she acts like that, cause I got "Curv ture of the 
 
 Spine" ! 
 
 I set while Aunty s washin on my little long-leg stool, 
 An watch the little boys an girls a-skippin by to school ; 
 An I peck on the winder, an holler out an say: 
 "Who wants to fight The Little Man at dares you all to 
 
 day?" 
 An nen the boys climbs on the fence, an little girls peeks 
 
 through, 
 An they all says : " Cause you re so big, you think we re 
 
 feard o you !" 
 An nen they yell, an shake their fist at me, like I shake 
 
 mine _ 
 They re thist in fun, you know, cause I got "Curv ture of 
 
 the Spine" ! 
 
 At evening, when the ironin s done, an* Aunty s fixed the 
 
 fire, 
 An filled an lit the lamp, an trimmed the wick an* turned 
 
 it higher, 
 An fetched the wood all in fer night, an locked the kitchen 
 
 door, 
 An stuffed the old crack where the wind blows in up 
 
 through the floor 
 itrftLI 3({-T" 9irr attad -Itx: jnaklrfs&ft . ns !zi asittad smoH 
 
 142 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 She sets the kittle on the coals, an biles an makes the tea, 
 An fries the liver an the mush, an cooks a egg fer me; 
 An sometimes when I cough so hard her elderberry 
 
 wine 
 Don t go so bad fer little boys with "Curv ture of the 
 
 Spine"! 
 ".jrii" ?,e rf -ji!>. -,Mi*fif<jfp/8 bldiWfehrjzfid isltJaaiTrev^ hHrio ni Aii&f^ 
 
 An* nen when she putts me to bed an* fore she does she s 
 
 got 
 My blanket-nighty, at she maked, all good an warm an 
 
 hot, 
 Hunged on the rocker by the fire she sings me hymns, an 
 
 tells 
 
 Me bout The Good Man yes, an Elves, an Old En 
 chanter spells ; 
 An tells me more an more an more ! tel I m asleep, 
 
 purt nigh 
 
 Only I thist set up ag in an kiss her when she cry, 
 A-tellin on bout some boy s Angel-mother an it s 
 
 mine! . . . 
 My Ma s a Angel but I m got "The Curv ture of the 
 
 Spine" ! 
 
 But Aunty s all so childish-like on my account, you see, 
 I m most afeard she ll be took down an at s what 
 
 bothers me! 
 
 Cause ef my good old Aunty ever would git sick an die, 
 I don t know what she d do in Heaven till / come, by an 
 
 by:- 
 
 Fer she s so ust to all my ways, an ever thing, you know, 
 An no one there like me, to nurse an worry over so ! 
 
 143 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Cause all the little childerns there s so straight an strong 
 
 an* fine, 
 They s nary angel bout the place with "Curv ture of the 
 
 Spine" ! 
 
 NOTE. The word "thist," as used in foregoing lines, is an occa 
 sional childish pronunciation evolved from the word "just" a word 
 which in child vernacular has manifold supplanters, such as "jus," 
 "jes," "des," "jis," "dis," "jist," "dist," "ist," and even "gist," 
 with hard g. In "thist," as used above, sound "th" as in the word 
 "the." 
 
 75 Christmas Afterthought 
 
 A FTER a thoughtful, almost painful pause, 
 -L\. Bub sighed, "I m sorry fer old Santy Claus: 
 They wus no Santy Claus, ner couldn t be, 
 When he wuz ist a little boy like me !" 
 
 In the Night 
 
 WHEN it s night, and no light, too, 
 Wakin by yourse f, 
 With the old clock mockin you 
 
 On the mantel-she f ; 
 In the dark so still and black, 
 
 You re afeard you ll hear 
 
 Somepin awful pop and crack, 
 
 "Go to sleep, my dear!" 
 
 144 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 That s what Mother says. And then s 
 
 When we ain t afeard! 
 Wunder, when we be big mens, 
 
 Then ul we be skeerd ? 
 Some night Mother s goned away, 
 
 And ist us is here, 
 Will The Good Man wake and say, 
 
 "Go to sleep, my dear" ? 
 
 When Our Baby Died 
 
 WHEN our baby died 
 My Ma she ist cried an cried ! 
 Yes n my Pa he cried, too 
 An /cried-An mean you.-^ 
 An I tended like my doll 
 She cried too An ever* all 
 O ist ever body cried 
 
 When our baby died! 
 
 When our baby died- 
 Nen I got to took a ride! 
 An* we all ist rode an rode 
 Clean to Heav n where baby goed * 
 Mighty nigh! An nen Ma she 
 Cried ag in-an Pa-an me.- 
 A1I but ist the Angels cried 
 
 When our baby died! 
 
 145 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The Squirt-Gun Uncle Maked Me 
 
 UNCLE SIDNEY, when he was here, 
 Maked me a squirt-gun out o some 
 Elder-bushes at growed out near 
 Where wuz the brick-yard way out clear 
 To where the Toll Gate come ! 
 
 So when we walked back home again, 
 
 He maked it, out in our woodhouse where 
 Wuz the old work-bench, an the old jack-plane, 
 An the old poke-shave, an the tools all lay n 
 1st like he wants em there. 
 
 He sawed it first with the old hand-saw ; 
 
 An nen he peeled off the bark, an got 
 Some glass an scraped it; an told bout Pa, 
 When he wuz a boy an fooled his Ma, 
 An the whippin at he caught. 
 
 F^LT" /-tkkd *t; M r It O 
 Nen Uncle Sidney, he took an filed 
 
 A old arn ramrod ; an one o the ends 
 He screwed fast into the vise ; an smiled, 
 Thinkin , he said, o when he wuz a child, 
 
 Fore him an Pa wuz mens. 
 
 i..9Ji>oi GIL aboi i ?,i ll& s~ff nA 
 
 He punched out the peth, an nen he putt 
 
 A plug in the end with a hole notched through ; 
 Nen took the old drawey-knife an cut 
 An* maked a handle at shoved clean shut 
 But ist where yer hand held to. 
 
 146 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An he wropt th uther end with some string an* white 
 
 Piece o the sleeve of a old tored shirt ; 
 An nen he showed me to hold it tight, 
 An* suck in the water an work it right. 
 An it ud ist squirt an squirt 1 
 
 . . 
 
 ;rp That-Air Young-Un 
 
 cT>b39l-?ikfR sdi .teriw biwon^i 
 
 THAT-AIR young-un ust to set 
 By the crick here day by day,- 
 Watch the swallers dip and wet 
 Their slim wings and skoot away; 
 Watch these little snipes along 
 The low banks tilt up and down 
 Mongst the reeds, and hear the song 
 Of the bullfrogs croakin roun : 
 Ust to set here in the sun 
 Watchin things, and listenun, 
 Teared-like, mostly to the roar 
 Of the dam below, er to 
 That-air riffle nigh the shore 
 Jes acrost from me and you. 
 Ust to watch him from the door 
 Of the mill. Ud rigg him out 
 With a fishin -pole and line 
 Dig worms fer him nigh about 
 Jes spit on his bait ! but he 
 Never keered much, pearantly, 
 To ketch fish ! He d ruther fine 
 Out some sunny place, and set 
 
 147 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Watchin things, with droopy head, 
 And "a-listenun," he said 
 "Kind o listenun above 
 The old crick to what the wet 
 Warter was a-talkin of!" 
 
 Jevver hear sich talk as that? 
 
 Bothered Mother more n me 
 
 What the child was cipher n at. 
 
 Come home onc t and said at he 
 
 Knowed what the snake- feeders thought 
 
 When they grit their wings ; and knowed 
 
 Turkle-talk, when bubbles riz 
 
 Over where the old roots growed 
 
 Where he th owed them pets o his 
 
 Little turripuns he caught 
 
 In the County Ditch and packed 
 
 In his pockets days and days ! 
 
 Said he knowed what goslin s quacked 
 
 Could tell what the killdees sayes, 
 
 And grasshoppers, when they lit 
 
 In the crick and "minnies" bit 
 
 Off their legs. "But, blame!" sayes he ? 
 
 Sort o lookin clean above 
 
 Mother s head and on through me 
 
 (And them eyes! I see em yet!) 
 
 "Blame!" he sayes, "ef I kin see, 
 
 Er make out, jes what the wet 
 
 Warter is a-talkin of !" 
 
 Sii jrrcfr-! ji 6 (f jjid ,np> Jk^> .V,^ 
 Made me nervous! Mother, though, 
 Said best not to scold the child 
 The Good Bein knowed. And so 
 
 148 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 We was only rickonciled 
 When he d be asleep. And then, 
 Time, and time, and time again, 
 We ve watched over him, you know 
 Her a-sayin nothin jes 
 Kind o smoothin back his hair, 
 And, all to herse f, I guess, 
 Studyin up some kind o prayer 
 She ain t tried yet. Onc t she said, 
 Cotin Scriptur , " He, " says she, 
 In a solemn whisper, " He 
 Givuth His beloved sleep ! " 
 And jes then I heerd the rain 
 Strike the shingles, as I turned 
 Res less to rds the wall again. 
 Pity strong men dast to weep ! 
 Specially when up above 
 Thrash! the storm comes down and you 
 Feel the midnight plum soaked through 
 Heart and soul, and vrunder, too, 
 What the warter s talkin of ! 
 
 won zs btoD oz ion ?.r> n it 
 i ^ i . -v | f- j 
 
 Found his hat way down below 
 Hinchman s Ford. Ves Anders he 
 Rid and fetched it. Mother she 
 Went wild over that, you know 
 Hugged it! kissed itlTurribul! 
 My hopes then was all gone too. . . < 
 Brung him in, with both hands full 
 O warter-lilies peared-like new- 
 
 149 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Bloomed fer him renched whiter still 
 In the clear rain, mixin fine 
 And finer in the noon sunshine. ^,;:p , 
 Winders of the old mill looked 
 On him where the hill-road crooked 
 In on through the open gate. . ^ ,,;>{ 
 Laid him on the old settee 
 On the porch there. Heerd the great 
 Roarin dam acrost and we 
 Heerd a crane cry in amongst 
 The sycamores and then a dove 
 Cutterin on the mill-roof then 
 Heerd the crick, and thought again, 
 "Now what s it a-talkin of ?" 
 .nijsfi fifiV/ srff a bi o* 
 
 8o Old Man s Nursery Rhyme 
 
 IN the jolly winters 
 Of the long-ago, 
 It was not so cold as now 
 
 Oh! No! No! 
 Then, as I remember, 
 
 Snowballs to eat 
 Were as good as apples now. 
 And every bit as sweet ! 
 
 In the jolly winters 
 Of the dead-and-gone, 
 
 Bub was warm as summer, 
 With his red mitts on, 
 
 150 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Just in his little waist- 
 And-pants all together, 
 
 Who ever heard him growl 
 About cold weather? 
 
 In the jolly winters 
 
 Of the long-ago 
 Was it half so cold as now? 
 
 Oh ! No ! No ! 
 Who caught his death o cold, 
 
 Making prints of men 
 Flat-backed in snow that now s 
 
 Twice as cold again? 
 
 In the jolly winters 
 
 Of the dead-and-gone, 
 Startin out rabbit huntin 
 
 Early as the dawn, 
 Who ever froze his fingers, 
 
 Ears, heels, or toes, 
 Or d a cared if he had? 
 
 Nobody knows ! 
 
 Nights by the kitchen stove, 
 
 Shellin white and red 
 Corn in the skillet, and 
 
 Sleepin four abed! 
 Ah! the jolly winters 
 
 Of the long-ago! 
 We were not as old as now 
 
 Oh! No! No! 
 
 151 
 
THE IIOOSIER BOOK 
 
 8 1 Ma. i and Jim 
 
 MAX an Jim, 
 They re each other s 
 Fat an* slim 
 
 Little brothers. 
 
 Max is thin, 
 
 An Jim, the fac s is, 
 Fat ag in 
 
 As little Max is ! 
 
 Their Pa lowed 
 
 He don t know whuther 
 He s most proud 
 
 Of one er th other! 
 
 Their Ma says 
 
 They re both so sweet ra/ 
 That she guess 
 
 She ll haf to eat em ! 
 
 82 The Old Haymow 
 
 THE Old Haymow s the place to play 
 Fer boys, when it s a rainy day ! 
 I good eal ruther be up there 
 Than down in town, er anywhere 1 
 
 152 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 When I play in our stable-loft, 
 The good old hay s so dry an soft, 
 An feels so fine, an smells so sweet, 
 I most ferget to go an eat. 
 
 An one time onc t I did ferget 
 To go tel dinner was all et, 
 An they had short-cake an Bud he 
 Hogged up the piece Ma saved f er me ! 
 
 SiJ-MW-tfq^wfesfi *3 
 Nen I won t let him play no more 
 In our haymow where I keep store 
 An* got hen-eggs to sell, an shoo 
 The cackle-un old hen out, too! 
 
 *3 frc*v/t airf qmorfo bSr! n& 
 An nen, when Aunty she was here 
 A-visitun from Rensselaer, 
 An bringed my little cousin, he 
 Can come up there an play with me. 
 
 But, after while when Bud he bets 
 At I can t turn no summersetts, 
 I let him come up, ef he can 
 Ac ha f-way like a gentleman ! 
 
 Guincy-Pigs 
 
 UINEY-PIGS is awful cute, 
 vJT With their little trimbly snoot 
 Sniffin at the pussly that 
 We bring em to nibble at. 
 
 153 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Looks like they re so clean an white, 
 An so dainty an polite, 
 They could eat like you an me 
 When they s company! 
 
 Tiltin down the clover-tops 
 
 Till they spill, an overdrops 
 
 The sweet morning dew Don t you 
 
 Think they might have napkins, too? 
 
 Ef a guiney-pig was big 
 
 As a shore-an -certain pig, 
 
 Nen he wouldn t ac so fine 
 When he come to dine. 
 
 Nen he d chomp his jaws an eat 
 Things out in the dirty street, 
 Dirt an all! An nen lay down 
 In mud-holes an waller roun ! 
 So the guiney-pigs is best, 
 Cause they re nice an tidiest ; 
 They eat most like you an me 
 When they s company! 
 
 The Land of Thus-and-So 
 
 "TTOW would Willie like to go 
 
 J- *- To the Land of Thus-and-So? 
 Everything is proper there 
 All the children comb their hair 
 Smoother than the fur of cats, 
 Or the nap of high silk hats; 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Every face is clean and white 
 As a lily washed in light; 
 Never vaguest soil or speck 
 Found on forehead, throat or neck* 
 Every little crimpled ear, 
 In and out, as pure and clear 
 As the cherry-blossom s blow 
 In the Land of Thus-and-So. 
 
 "Little boys that never fall 
 Down the stairs, or .cry at all 
 Doing nothing to repent, 
 Watchful and obedient; 
 Never hungry, nor in haste 
 Tidy shoe-strings always laced ; 
 Never button rudely torn 
 From its fellows all unworn ; 
 Knickerbockers always new 
 Ribbon, tie, and collar, too ; 
 Little watches, worn like men, 
 Always promptly half-past ten- 
 Just precisely right, you know, 
 For the Land of Thus-anH-So! 
 
 "And the little babies ther 
 Give no one the slightest car* 1 
 Nurse has not a thing to do 
 But be happy arid sigh Boo * 
 While Mamma just nods, and knows 
 Nothing but to doze and doze 
 Never litter round the grate/ 
 Never lunch or dinner late ; 
 
 155 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Never any household din 
 
 Peals without or rings within 
 
 Baby coos nor laughing calls 
 
 On the stairs or through the halls 
 
 Just Great Hushes to and fro 
 
 Pace the Land of Thus-and-So ! 
 
 yrokl .* HP ;.;? tilj 2 A 
 
 "Oh ! the Land of Thus-and-So ! 
 Isn t it delightful, though ?" 
 "Yes," lisped Willie, answering me 
 Somewhat slow and doubtfully 
 "Must be awful nice, but I 
 Ruther wait till by and by 
 Fore I go there maybe when 
 I be dead I ll go there then. 
 But" the troubled little face 
 Closer pressed in my embrace 
 "Le s don t never ever go 
 To the Land of Thus-and-So !" 
 
 <?5 Grandfather Squecrs 
 
 y grandfather Squeers," said The Raggedy Man, 
 As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began 
 
 "The most indestructible man, for his years, 
 
 And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers! 
 
 "He said, when he rounded his threescore-and-ten, 
 I ve the hang of it now and can do it again ! 
 
 156 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he 
 
 Could tell by them just what the weather would be; 
 
 "And would laugh and declare, while the Almanac would 
 Most falsely prognosticate, he never could 1 
 
 "Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers 
 That, though he d used navy for sixty-odd years, 
 
 "He still chewed a dime s worth six days of the week, 
 While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek. 
 
 "Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack 
 
 Of sitting around on the small of his back, f>ir 
 
 "With his legs like a letter Y stretched o er the grate 
 Wherein twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate. 
 
 "He was fond of tobacco in manifold ways, 
 
 And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days, 
 
 "And smoke leaf-tobacco he d raised strictly for 
 The pipe he d used all through the Mexican W r ar." 
 
 And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl 
 Of his own pipe and leisurely picking a coal 
 
 From the stove with his finger and thumb, "You can see 
 What a tee-nacious habit he s fastened on me ! 
 
 "And my grandfather Squeers took a special delight 
 In pruning his corns every Saturday night 
 
 157 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "With a horn-handled razor, whose e^ge he excused 
 By saying twas one that his grandfather used; 
 
 "And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same 
 Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm s name, 
 
 " Twas my grandfather s custom to boast of the blade 
 As a Seth Thomas razor the best ever made ! 
 
 "No Old Settlers Meeting, or Pioneers Fair, 
 
 Was complete without grandfather Squeers in the chair, 
 
 "To lead off the program by telling folks how 
 
 He used to shoot deer where the Court-house stands now 
 
 "How he felt, of a truth, to live over the past, 
 When the country was wild and unbroken and vast, 
 
 " That the little log cabin was just plenty fine 
 
 For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine! 
 
 " When they didn t have even a pump, or a tin, 
 But drunk surface-water, year out and year in, 
 
 " From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, by odds, 
 Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods ! " 
 
 Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say 
 It was clockin along to rds the close of the day 
 
 And he d ought to get back to his work on the lawn, 
 Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on : 
 
 158 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "His teeth were imperfect my grandfather owned 
 That he couldn t eat oysters unless they were boned ; 
 
 "And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of sight, 
 He couldn t sleep with them unless, every night, 
 
 "He put on his spectacles all he possessed, 
 Three pairs with his goggles on top of the rest. 
 
 "And my grandfather always, retiring at night, 
 Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light; 
 
 "Then he d curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed, 
 And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said : 
 
 "And would snore oftentimes, as the legends relate, 
 Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state, 
 
 I J^L 
 
 "Then he d snort, and rear up, and roll over ; and there 
 In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air. 
 
 V2 3[f2 M zVforifiM sljji.I 
 
 "And so glaringly bald was the top of his head 
 That many s the time he has musingly said, 
 
 "As his eyes journeyed o er its reflex in the glass, 
 I must set out a few signs of Keep Off the Grass! 
 
 "So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers 
 That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears 
 
 "To even hear thunder and oftentimes then 
 He was forced to request it to thunder again." 
 
 159 
 
THE HOOSIER ROOK 
 
 86 Little Mandy s Christinas-Tree 
 
 T ITTLE Mandy and her Ma 
 
 JL< S porest folks you ever saw ! 
 
 Lived in porest house in town, 
 
 Where the fence uz all tore down. 
 .123T rfj io qot no rei^o^ eid rltiw aiixxi imif i 
 
 And no front-door steps at all 
 1st a old box g inst the wall; 
 And no door-knob on the door 
 
 Outside. My! but they uz pore! 
 
 >> .,da s aafrl 3360 -no qtr fam. b aif 
 
 Wuz no winder-shutters on, 
 And some of the winders gone, 
 And where they uz broke they d pas e 
 1st brown paper crost the place. 
 
 Tell you ! when it s winter there, 
 
 And the snow ist ever where, 
 
 Little Mandy s Ma she say 
 
 Spec they ll freeze to death some day. 
 
 Wunst my Ma and me when we 
 
 Be n to church, and s goin to be 
 
 Chris mus purty soon, we went 
 There like the Committee sent. 
 
 And-sir! when we re in the door, 
 Wuz no carpet on the floor, 
 And no fire and heels-and-head 
 Little Mandy s tucked in bed ! 
 160 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And her Ma telled my Ma she 
 Got no coffee but ist tea, 
 And fried mush and s all they had 
 Sence her health broke down so bad. 
 
 Nen Ma hug and hold me where 
 Little Mandy s layin there ; 
 And she kiss her, too, and nen 
 Mandy kiss my Ma again. 
 
 And my Ma she telled her we 
 Goin to have a Chris mus-Tree, 
 At the Sund y-School, at s fer 
 ALL the childern, and fer her. 
 
 Little Mandy think nen she 
 Say, "What is a Chris mus-Tree?" 
 Nen my Ma she gived her Ma 
 Somepin at I never saw. 
 
 oi ?-T3<t*irLw yl nm <yfo na /I 
 And say she must take it, and 
 
 She ist maked her keep her hand 
 Wite close shut, and nen she kiss 
 Her hand shut ist like it is. 
 
 Nen we corned awaj r . . . . And nen 
 When it s Chris mus Eve again, 
 And all of us childerns be 
 At the Church and Chris mus-Tree 
 
 And all git our toys and things 
 At old Santy Claus he brings 
 And puts on the Tree ; wite where 
 The big Tree uz standin there, 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And the things uz all tooked down, 
 And the childerns, all in town, 
 Got their presents nen we see 
 They s a little Chris mus-Tree 
 
 Wite behind the big Tree so 
 We can t see till ncn, you know, 
 And it s all ist loaded down 
 With the purtiest things in town ! 
 
 And the teacher smile and say: 
 "This-here Tree at s hid away 
 It s marked Little Mandy s Tree. - 
 Little Mandy! Where is she?" 
 
 Nen nobody say a word. 
 Stillest place you ever heard ! 
 Till a man tiptoe up where 
 Teacher s still a-waitin there. 
 
 Nen the man he whispers, so 
 
 brrA 
 Ist the Teacher hears, you know. 
 
 3ff3 
 
 Nen he tiptoe back and go 
 Out the big door ist so slow ! 
 
 Little Mandy, though, she don t 
 Answer and Ma say "she won t 
 Never, though each year they ll be 
 Little Mandy s Chris mus-Tree 
 
 Fer pore childern" my Ma says 
 And Committee say they guess 
 "Little Mandy s Tree" till be 
 Bigger than the other Tree! 
 
 162 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 ou ^fi o-o g -- < 
 
 8? The Funniest Thing in the World 
 
 E funniest thing in the world, I know, 
 JL Is watchin the monkeys at s in the show ! 
 Jumpin an runnin an* racin roun , 
 Way up the top o the pole; nen down! 
 First they re here, an nen they re there, 
 An ist a most any an ever where ! 
 Screechin an scratchin wherever they go, 
 They re the funniest thing in the world, I know ! 
 
 They re the funniest thing in the world, I think : 
 
 Funny to watch em eat an drink ; 
 
 Funny to watch em a-watchin us, 
 
 An actin most like grown folks does! 
 
 Funny to watch em p tend to be 
 
 Skeered at their tail at they happen to see ; 
 
 But the funniest thing in the world they do 
 
 Is never to laugh, like me an you! 
 
 -- ,- 
 
 88 Little Johnts s Chris mu-s 
 
 w 
 
 E got it up a-purpose, jes fer little Johnts, you know ; 
 
 His mother was so pore an all, an had to manage 
 
 so. 
 
 Jes bein a War-widder, an her pension mighty slim, 
 She d take in weavin , er work out, er anything fer him ! 
 
 An little Johnts was puny-like but law, the nerve he 
 
 had! 
 You d want to kind o pity him, but couldn t, very bad, 
 
 163 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 
 
 His pants o army-blanket an his coat o faded blue 
 Kep hintin of his father like, an* pity wouldn t do ! 
 
 So we collogued together, onc t, one winter-time, at we 
 Jes me an* mother an the girls, an Wilse, John-Jack an 
 
 Free 
 Would jine an git up little Johnts, by time at Chris mus 
 
 come 
 Some sort o doin s, don t you know, at would surprise him 
 
 some. 
 
 An so, all on the quiet, Mother she turns in an gits 
 Some blue-janes cuts an makes a suit; an* then sets down 
 
 an knits 
 
 A pair o little galluses to go long with the rest 
 An putts in a red-flannen back an buckle on the vest. 
 
 The little feller d be n so much around our house, you see, 
 An be n sich he p to her an all, an handy as could be, 
 At Mother couldn t do too much fer little Johnts No, 
 
 sir! 
 She ust to jes declare at "he was meat-an -drink to her!" 
 
 An Pinej , Lide, an Madaline they watch their chance an 
 
 rid 
 To Fountaintown with Lijey s folks; an bought a book, 
 
 they did, 
 
 O fairy tales, with pictur s in ; an got a little pair 
 O red-top boots at John-Jack said he d be n a-pricin there. 
 
 An* Lide got him a little sword, an Madaline, a drum ; 
 An shootin -crackers Lawzy-day ! an they re so danger- 
 some! 
 
 164 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An* Piney, ever time the rest ud buy some other toy, 
 She d take an turn in then an* buy more candy f er the boy ! 
 
 "Well," thinks-says-I, when they got back, "your pocket- 
 
 books is dry!" 
 
 But little Johnts was there hisse f that afternoon, so I 
 Well, all of us kep mighty mum, tel we got him away 
 By tellin him be shore an come to-morry Chris mus 
 
 Day 
 
 An fetch his mother long with him ! An how he scud 
 
 acrost 
 The fields his towhead, in the dusk, jes like a streak o 
 
 frost ! 
 His comfert flutter n as he run an old Tige, don t you 
 
 know, 
 A-jumpin high fer rabbits an a-plowin* up the snow! 
 
 jvjsh Uriora vm Ik ni JriivAM larhons ibia 1 nA 
 It must a be n most ten that night afore we got to bed 
 
 With Wilse an John-Jack he ppin us ; an Freeman in the 
 
 shed, 
 An Lide out with the lantern while he trimmed the Chris 
 
 mus Tree 
 Out of a little scrub-oak-top at suited to a "T M T 
 
 All night I dreamp o hearin things a-skulkin round the 
 
 place 
 An "Old Kriss," with his whiskers off, an freckles on his 
 
 face- 
 An reindeers, shaped like shavin -hosses at the cooper- 
 
 shop, 
 A-stickin down the chimbly, with their heels out at the top ! 
 
 165 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 By time at Mother got me up twas plum daylight an 
 
 more 
 The front yard full o neighbers all a-crowdin round the 
 
 door, 
 
 With Johnts s mother leadin ; yes an little Johnts hisse f , 
 Set up on Freeman s shoulder, like a jug up on the she f 1 
 
 Of course I can t describe it when they all got in to where 
 We d conjered up the Chris mus Tree an all the fixin v s 
 
 there ! 
 Per all the shouts o laughture clappin* hands, an crackin 
 
 jokes, 
 
 Was heap o kissin goin on amongst the women-folks : 
 
 ! iaoi t 
 
 Fer, lo-behold-ye ! there they had that young-un ! An his 
 
 chin 
 
 A-wobblin like ; an , shore enough, at last he started in 
 An sich another bellerin , in all my mortal days, 
 I never heerd, er spect to hear, in woe s app inted ways ! 
 
 An* Mother grabs him up an says : "It s more n he can 
 , 
 bear 
 
 It s all too suddent fer the child, an too su prisin* ! 
 
 There!" 
 "Oh, no it ain t" sobbed little Johnts "I ain t su prised 
 
 but I m 
 A-cryin cause I watched you all, an knowed it all the 
 
 time !" 
 
 diiw 
 166 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 $p The Boys Candidate 
 
 I" AS time at Uncle Sidney come, 
 -L^ He bringed a watermelon home 
 
 An half the boys in town 
 Come taggin* after him. An he 
 Says, when we et it, "Gracious me! 
 
 S the boy-house fell down?" 
 
 Ibl.i ltED 9ffe" *{K 9fl2 filA 
 
 v ^ nimoD^iV iBrfW 
 po 77/. Bumblebee 
 
 YOU better not fool with a Bumblebee ! 
 Ef you don t think they can sting you ll see ! 
 They re lazy to look at, an kind o go 
 Buzzin an bummin aroun so slow, 
 An ac so slouchy an all fagged out, 
 Danglin their legs as they drone about 
 The hollyhawks at they can t climb in 
 Ithout ist a-tumble-un out ag in! 
 Wunst I watched one climb clean way 
 In a jimson-blossom, I did, one day, 
 An I ist grabbed it an nen let go 
 An "Ooh-ooh! Honey! I told ye so!" 
 Says The Raggedy Man ; an he ist run 
 An pullt out the stinger, an don t laugh none, 
 An says : "They has be n folks, I guess, 
 At thought I wuz predjudust, more er less, 
 Yit I still muntain at a Bumblebee 
 Wears out his welcome too quick f er me !" 
 
 167 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 pi When the World Bu sts Through 
 [CASUALLY SUGGESTED BY AN EARTHQUAKE] 
 
 WHERE S a boy a-goin , 
 An what s he goin to do, 
 An* how s he goin to do it, 
 
 When the world bu sts through? 
 Ma she says "she can t tell 
 What we re comin to !" 
 An Pop says "he s ist skeered 
 Clean plum through !" 
 
 S pose we d be a-playin 
 
 Out in the street, 
 An the ground ud split up 
 
 Bout forty feet! 
 Ma says "she ist knows 
 
 We ud tumble in"; 
 An Pop says "he bets you 
 
 Nen we wouldn t grin !" 
 ifcsy/ 1 nevh drnib fwio b-JiblBw I J^mjW 
 S pose we d ist be tendin* 
 
 Like we had a show, 
 Down in the stable 
 
 Where we mustn t go. 
 Ma says, "The earthquake 
 
 Might make it fall"; 
 An Pop says, "More n like 
 
 Swaller barn an all!" 
 "Jorri isl ybittii GO} 3mo:>taw iiff IIJQ di j\Y 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Landy ! ef we both wuz 
 
 Runnin way from school, 
 Out in the shady woods 
 
 Where it s all so cool ! 
 Ma says "a big tree 
 
 Might sqush our head"; 
 An* Pop says, "Chop em out 
 
 Both killed dead !" 
 
 But where s a boy goin , 
 
 An what s he goin to do, 
 An how s he goin to do it, 
 
 Ef the world bu sts through? 
 Ma she says "she can t tell 
 
 What we re comin to !" 
 An Pop says "he s ist skeered 
 
 Clean plum through !" 
 
 A Prospective Glimpse 
 
 JANEY Pettibone s the best 
 Little girl an purtiest 
 In this town ! an lives next door, 
 Up-stairs over their old store. 
 
 Little Janey Pettibone 
 An her Ma lives all alone, 
 Cause her Pa broke up, an* nen 
 Died cause they ain t rich again. 
 169 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Little Janey s Ma she sews 
 Fer my Ma sometimes, an goes 
 An gives music-lessuns where 
 People s got pianers there. 
 
 But when Janey Pettibone 
 
 Grows an grows, like I m a-growin , 
 
 Nen I m go to keep a store, 
 
 An sell things an sell some more - 
 
 Till I m ist as rich ! An nen 
 Her Ma can be rich again, 
 Ef I m rich enough to own 
 Little Janey Pettibone ! 
 
 pj The Old Tramp 
 
 A OLD Tramp slep in our stable wunst 
 An* The Raggedy Man he caught 
 An roust him up, an chased him off 
 Clean out through our back lot! 
 
 An th* old Tramp hollered back an said, 
 "You re a purty man ! You air ! 
 
 With a pair o eyes like two fried eggs, 
 An a nose like a Bartlutt pear !" 
 An Pm%affoJU Hjj^yik ajsfciarf ft A 
 
 bsiCI 
 170 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 p^ The Pet Coon 
 
 NOEY Bixler ketched him, an* fetched him in to me 
 When he s ist a little teenty-weenty baby-coon 
 Bout as big as little pups, an tied him to a tree ; 
 
 An Pa gived Noey fifty cents, when he come home at 
 
 noon. 
 Ncn he buyed a chain fer him, an little collar, too, 
 
 An sawed a hole in a old tub an turnt it upside down ; 
 
 An little f eller d stay in there and won t come out fer you 
 
 Tendin like he s kind o skeered o boys at lives in town. 
 
 Now he ain t af card a bit ! he s ist so fat an tame, 
 
 We on y chain him up at night, to save the little chicks. 
 Holler "Greedy! Greedy!" to him, an he knows his name, 
 
 An here he ll come a-waddle-un, up fer any tricks ! 
 He ll climb up my leg, he will, an waller in my lap, 
 
 An poke his little black paws way in my pockets where 
 They s beechnuts, er chinkypins, er any little scrap 
 
 Of anything at s good to eat an he don t care! 
 G ; : ? 3fJ *^B 3*^ ni noirvkj^ug to . flotga. n.qxa .boxft *o Jioa A 
 An he s as spunky as you please, an don t like dogs at 
 all. 
 
 Billy Miller s black-an -tan tackled him one day, 
 An "Greedy" he ist kind o doubled all up like a ball, 
 
 An Billy s dog he gived a yelp er two an runned away ! 
 An nen when Billy fighted me, an hit me with a bone, 
 
 An Ma she purt nigh ketched him as he dodged an 
 
 scooted through 
 The fence, she says, "You better let my little boy^ alone, 
 
 Er Greedy, next he whips yer dog, shall whip you, too !" 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 P5 Naughty Claude 
 
 w 
 
 PHEN Little Claude was naughty wunst 
 
 At dinner-time, an said 
 He won t say "Thank you" to his Ma, 
 
 She maked him go to bed 
 An stay two hours an not git up, 
 
 So when the clock struck Two, 
 Nen Claude says, "Thank you, Mr. Clock, 
 I m much obleeged to you!" 
 .nv/oi m aavi! Jc* drf o !&.& S - 
 
 96 "The Preacher s Boy" 
 
 T RTCKOLLECT the little tad, back, years and years 
 
 J- ago 
 
 "The Preacher s Boy" that every one despised and hated 
 so! 
 
 A meek-faced little feller, with white eyes and foxy hair, 
 
 And a look like he expected ser ous trouble everywhere : 
 
 A sort o fixed expression of suspicion in his glance ; 
 
 His bare feet always scratched with briers; and green 
 stains on his pants ; 
 
 Molasses-marks along his sleeves; his cap-rim turned be 
 hind 
 
 And so it is "The Preacher s Boy" is brought again to 
 mind! 
 
 My fancy even brings the sly marauder back so plain, 
 I see him jump our garden-fence and slip off down the 
 lane; 
 
 172 
 
THE HOOSIKR BOOK 
 
 And^I seem to holler at him and git back the old reply: 
 "Oh, no : your peaches is too green f er such a worm as I !" 
 Fer he scorned his father s phrases every holy one he 
 
 had 
 "As good a man," folks put it, "as that boy of his was 
 
 bad !" 
 And again from their old buggy-shed, I hear the "rod un- 
 
 spared" 
 Of course that never "spoiled the child" for which nobody 
 
 cared ! 
 
 If any neighber ever found his gate without a latch, 
 Or rines around the edges of his watermelon-patch; 
 His pasture-bars left open ; or his pump-spout chocked with 
 
 clay, 
 He d swear twas "that infernal Preacher s Boy," right 
 
 away! 
 When strings was stretched acrost the street at night, and 
 
 some one got 
 
 An everlastin tumble, and his nose broke, like as not, 
 And laid it on "The Preacher s Boy" no powers, low ner 
 
 high, 
 Could ever quite substantiate that boy s alibi! 
 
 And did nobody like the boy? Well, all the pets in town 
 Would eat out of his fingers; and canaries would come 
 
 down 
 And leave their swingin perches and their fish-bone jist to 
 
 pick 
 
 The little warty knuckles that the dogs would leap to lick. 
 No little snarlin , snappin fiste but what would leave his 
 
 bone 
 To foller, ef he whistled, in that tantalizin tone 
 
 173 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 That made a goods-box whittler blasphemetisly protest 
 "He couldn t tell, twixt dog and boy, which one was orn- 
 riest !" 
 
 Twas such a little cur as this, onc t, when the crowd was 
 
 thick 
 
 Along the streets, a drunken corner-loafer tried to kick, 
 When a sudden foot behind him tripped him up, and falling 
 
 so 
 He "marked his man," and jerked his gun drawed up and 
 
 let er go ! 
 And the crowd swarmed round the victim holding close 
 
 against his breast 
 
 The little dog unharmed, in arms that still, as they caressed, 
 Grew rigid in their last embrace, as with a smile of joy 
 He recognized the dog was saved. So died "The Preach 
 
 er s Boy"! 
 l)fi ^rfgltttB J391J?, aril ieo-i3-G 
 
 blno J I 
 
 When it appeared, before the Squire, that fatal pistol-ball 
 Was fired at "a dangerous beast," and not the boy at all, 
 And the facts set forth established it was like-befittin 
 
 then 
 
 To order out a possy of the "city councilmen 
 To kill the dog! But, strange to tell, they searched the 
 
 country round, 
 
 And never hide-ner-hair of that "said" dog was ever found ! 
 And, somehow, then I sort o thought and half-way think, 
 
 to-day 
 The spirit of "The Preacher s Boy" had whistled him away. 
 
 -ilt.ll iiiqq./!e , r?ihna slttjl uVl 
 
 174 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 p/ An Impetuous Resolve 
 
 WHEN little Dickie Swope s a man, 
 He s go to be a Sailor ; 
 An little Hamey Tincher, he s 
 
 A-go to be a Tailor ; 
 Bud Mitchell, he s a-go to be 
 A stylish Carriage-Maker; 
 An when / grow a grea -big man, 
 
 I m go to be a Baker ! 
 ;im [[? i^Jsw v^flt JEflf 5ife^v^ 03 sis ssva girl bnA 
 
 An Dick ll buy his sailor-suit 
 
 O Hame ; an Hame ll take it 
 An buy as fine a double-rig 
 
 As ever Bud kin make it: 
 An nen all three ll drive roun fer me s 
 
 An we ll drive off togevver, 
 A-slingin pie-crust long the road 
 
 Ferever an f erever ! 
 
 po 3 The Man in the Moon 
 
 SAID The Raggedy Man, on a hot afternoon: 
 My! 
 
 Sakes ! 
 
 What a lot o mistakes 
 
 Some little folks makes on The Man in the Moon! 
 But people that s be n up to see him, like me, 
 And calls on him frequent and intimuttly, 
 
 1/5 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Might drop a few facts that would interest you 
 Clean ! 
 
 Through ! 
 
 If you wanted em to 
 Some actual facts that might interest you ! 
 
 O The Man in the Moon has a crick in his back; 
 Whee ! 
 
 Whimm ! 
 
 Ain t you sorry for him? 
 
 And a mole on his nose that is purple and black ; 
 And his eyes are so weak that they water and run 
 If he dares to dream even he looks at the sun, 
 So he jes dreams of stars, as the doctors advise 
 My! 
 
 Eyes ! 
 
 But isn t he wise 
 To jes dream of stars, as the doctors advise? 
 
 ] i>0-i j fo anor^trt^fq- niiml^A 
 And The Man in the Moon has a boil on his ear 
 Whee! 
 
 "Whing ! 
 
 What a singular thing ! 
 
 J know! but these facts are authentic, my dear, 
 There s a boil on his ear ; and a corn on his chin 
 He calls it a dimple but dimples stick in 
 Yet it might be a dimple turned over, you know! 
 Whang ! 
 Ho! 
 
 Why, certainly so ! 
 It might be a dimple turned over, you know ! 
 
 176 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And The Man in the Moon has a rheumatic knee 
 Gee! 
 
 Whizz ! 
 
 What a pity that is! 
 And his toes have worked round where his heels ought to 
 
 be. 
 
 So whenever he wants to go North he goes South, 
 And comes back with porridge-crumbs all round his mouth, 
 And he brushes them off with a Japanese fan, 
 Whing ! 
 
 Whann! 
 
 What a marvelous man ! 
 What a very remarkably marvelous man ! 
 
 And The Man in the Moon, sighed The Raggedy Man, 
 Gits ! 
 So . 
 
 Sullonesome, you know, 
 Up there by hisse f sence creation began ! 
 That when I call on him and then come away, 
 He grabs me and holds me and begs me to stay, 
 Till Well! if it wasn t fer Jimmy-cum-jim, 
 Dadd ! 
 Limb 1 
 
 I d go pardners with him 
 
 Jes ! jump my job here and be pardners with him! 
 ! i9mo > *nf[>bbO vIBH mdw //c>T!vAs !Y n niton acf fnoV/ 
 
 177 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 pp #* % Goo din 
 
 I xsiriW 
 
 y4 fo # />tVc<> o />zV, and a fo # />tVf o puddin 
 7 /aid it all by fcr little Billy Goodin ! 
 
 BOY-POET. 
 
 LOOK so neat an sweet in all yer frills an fancy pleatin ! 
 Better shet yer kitchen, though, afore you go to Meet- 
 in ! 
 
 Better hide yer mince-meat an stewed fruit an plums! 
 Better hide yer pound-cake an bresh away the crumbs ! 
 Better hide }^er cubbord-key when Billy Goodin comes, 
 A-eatin ! an a-eatin ! an a-eatin ! 
 
 Sight o* Sund y-doin s at ain t done in Meetin ! 
 Sun acrost yer garden-patch a-pourin an a-beatin ; 
 
 Meller apples drappin in the weeds an roun the groun 
 Clingstones an sugar-pears a-ist a-plunkin down ! 
 Better kind o comb the grass fore Billy comes aroun 
 
 A-eatin ! an a-eatin ! an a-eatin ! 
 > ; .- v tM! \-\\\ w-jHcmm j \ i~j\ j- naiiw it M \\\-S-\\ lliT 
 
 Billy Goodin ain t a-go to go to any Meetin ! 
 
 We ull watch an ketch an give the little sneak a beatin ! 
 Better hint we want o stay n* snoop yer grapes an plums ! 
 Better eat em all yerse f an suck yer stingy thumbs ! 
 Won t be nothin anyhow when Billy Goodin comes ! 
 A-eatin ! an a-eatin ! an a-eatin ! 
 
 178 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 IOO Prior to Miss Belle s Appearance 
 
 ttlbm ia%I V^hjsrQ ,\;3rfl ^\ 
 
 WHAT makes you come /j<?n> fer, 
 So much to our house? Say? 
 Come to see our big sister ! 
 An Charley he says at you kissed her 
 An he ketched you, th uther day I 
 Didn t you, Charley? But we p omised Belle 
 An* crossed our heart to never to tell 
 Cause she gived us some o them-er 
 Chawklliitrdrops at you bringed to her ! 
 
 Charley he s my little b uther 
 
 An we has a-mostest fun, 
 Don t we, Charley? Our Muther, 
 Whenever we whips one-another, 
 
 Tries to whip us an we run 
 Don t we, Charley? An nen, bime-by, 
 Nen she gives us cake an pie 
 Don t she, Charley? when we come in 
 An p omise never to do it ag in ! 
 
 ~:-rrav33 m l . ,Ji fmA 
 
 He s named Charley. I m Willie 
 
 An I m got the purtiest name ! 
 But Uncle Bob he calls me "Billy" 
 Don t he, Charley? N our filly 
 
 We named "Billy," the same 
 1st like me ! An our Ma said 
 At "Bob puts foolishnuss into our head ! 5 
 Didn t she, Charley? An she don t know 
 Much about boys! Cause Bob said so! 
 179 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Baby s a funniest feller ! 
 
 Nain t no hair on his head 
 Is they, Charley? It s meller 
 Wite up there ! An ef Belle er 
 
 Us ask wuz we that way, Ma said, 
 Yes; an yer Pa s head wuz soft as that, 
 An it s that way yet ! An Pa grabs his hat 
 An says, "Yes, childern, she s right about Pa 
 Cause that s the reason he married yer Ma !" 
 
 An our Ma says at "Belle couldn 
 
 Ketch nothin at all but ist bows " 
 An Pa says at "you re soft as puddun !" 
 An Uncle Bob says "you re a good-un 
 
 Cause he can tell by yer nose !" 
 Didn he, Charley? An when Belle ll play 
 In the poller on th pianer, some day, 
 Bob makes up funny songs about you, 
 Till she gits mad like he wants her to ! 
 
 Our sister Fanny she s leven 
 
 Years old ! At s mucher an I 
 Ain t it, Charley? . . . I m seven! 
 But our sister Fanny s in Heaven! 
 
 Nere s where you go ef you die ! 
 Don t you, Charley ! Nen you has wings 
 Ist like Fanny! an purtiest things! 
 Don t you, Charley? An nen you can fly 
 Ist fly an ever th mg ! . . . Wisht I d die ! 
 
 ! 02 bi&z doH jjaifxO \iv/i<A iuodi; 
 180 
 
THE IIOOSIER BOOK 
 
 loi She "Displains" It 
 
 "IT AD, too!" 
 
 So contended Bess and May 
 
 "Hadn t, neither!" 
 
 
 Neighbor children, who were boasting 
 Of their grandmammas, one day. 
 
 -gcmnj* orij jgnr&i; r-> r ro<? sift borfonrhsg 9 A 08 
 
 "Had, too!" 
 "Hadn t, neither!" 
 
 A 11 it. J-J-T 1 
 
 All the difference begun 
 
 r> nr f 1 ,, 
 
 .By May s saying she d /te o grandmas 
 
 While poor Bess had only one. 
 
 ! Don-sop : on-oH w ! s^ll .iM O" 
 
 "Had, too!" 
 
 "Hadn t, neither!" :|m ^ 
 Tossing curls, and kinks of friz! 
 
 "How could you have two gran muvvers 
 When ist one is all they is?" 
 
 : & O2 UK fifiw 3.oioY arfT 
 "Had, too!" 
 
 "Hadn t, neither! 
 Cause ef you had two" said Bess, 
 
 "You d displain it!" Then May answered, 
 "My gran mas wuz twins, I guess ! 
 02 ai ifioittB l !r>rl : o-< o i.so ieriT 
 
 i r?/f$ t?T-i lii Tstiv/ov DnA. 
 . -lana^a ijiifiil f^ofii 3th //oP I hnA 
 "! sv3f IL-J{ 1o rjlltx osii nsrfT 
 181 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 102 The Jolly Miller 
 
 [RESTORED ROMAUNT] 
 
 IT was a Jolly Miller lived on the River Dee ; 
 He looked upon his piller, and there he found a flea 
 "O Mr. Flea ! you have bit me, 
 
 And you shall sh Drely die !" 
 So he scrunched his bones ag inst the stones 
 And there he let him lie ! 
 
 Twas then the Jolly Miller he laughed and told his wife, 
 And she laughed fit to kill her, and dropped her carving- 
 knife ! 
 "O Mr. Flea !" "Ho-ho !" "Tee-hee !" 
 
 The} - both laughed fit to kill, 
 Until the sound did almost drownd 
 
 The rumble of the mill! 
 
 "Laugh on, my Jolly Miller! and Missus Alillcr, too! 
 But there s a wee ping -wilier will soon wave over you!" 
 The voice was all so awful small 
 
 So very small and slim ! 
 He durst infer that it was her, 
 
 Ner her infer twas him! 
 
 That night the Jolly Miller, says he, "It s, Wifey dear, 
 That cat o yourn, I d kill her ! her actions is so queer, 
 She s rubbin g inst the grindstone-legs, 
 
 And yowlin at the sky 
 And I low the moon hain t greener 
 
 Than the yaller of her eye!" 
 182 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And as the Jolly Miller went chuckle-un to bed, 
 
 Was Somepin jerked his piller from underneath his head! 
 
 "O Wife," says he, on-easi-lee, 
 
 "Fetch here that lantern there I" 
 But Somepin moans in thunder-tones, 
 
 "You fetch it ef you dare!" 
 
 Twas then the Jolly Miller he trimbled and he quailed 
 And his wife choked until her breath come back n she 
 
 wailed! 
 And "Oh!" cried she, "it is the Flea, 
 
 All white and pale and wann 
 He s got you in his clutches, and 
 
 He s bigger than a man!" 
 
 "Ho! ho! my Jolly Miller" (fer twas the Flea, fer shore!}, 
 "I reckon you ll not rack my bones ner scrunch em any 
 
 more!" 
 Then the Flea-Ghost he grabbed him clos t, 
 
 With many a ghastly smile, 
 And from the door-step stooped and hopped 
 
 About four hunderd mile ! 
 
 At Aunty s House 
 
 ONE time, when we z at Aunty s house 
 Way in the country! where 
 They s ist but woods an pigs, an cows 
 An all s outdoors an air ! 
 
 183 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An orchurd-swmg ; an churry-trees 
 An churries in em ! Yes, an these- 
 Here redhead birds steals all they please, 
 
 An tetch em ef you dare ! 
 W y, wunst, one time, when we wuz there, 
 We ct out on the porch! 
 
 Wite where the cellar door wuz shut 
 
 The table wuz ; an I 
 Let Aunty set by me an cut 
 
 My vittuls up an pie. 
 Tuz awful funny ! I could see 
 The redheads in the churry-tree ; 
 An beehives, where you got to be 
 
 So keerful, goin by; 
 An "Comp ny" there an all ! an we 
 We et out on the porch! 
 
 An I ist et p surves an things 
 
 At Ma don t low me to 
 An chickun-gizzurds (don t like wings 
 
 Like Parunts does ! do you?) 
 An all the time the wind blowed there, 
 An I could feel it in my hair, 
 An ist smell clover z;<?r where ! 
 
 An a old redhead flew 
 Purt nigh wite over my high-chair, 
 When we et on the porch! 
 
 o 
 
 184 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 104 The Raggedy Man 
 
 OTHE Raggedy Man ! He works f er Pa ; 
 An he s the goodest man ever you saw ! 
 He comes to our house dW fcry day, 
 An waters the horses, an feeds em hay ; 
 An he opens the shed an we all ist laugh 
 When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf ; 
 An nen ef our hired girl says he can 
 He milks the cow fer Lizabuth Ann. 
 Ain t he a* awfu.l good Raggedy Man? 
 Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 
 
 W y, The Raggedy Man he s ist so good, 
 He splits the kindlin an chops the wood ; 
 An nen he spades in our garden, too, 
 An* does most things at boys can t do. 
 He clumbed clean up in our big tree 
 An shocked a apple down fer me 
 An nother n , too, fer Lizabuth Ann 
 An nother n , too, fer The Raggedy Man. 
 Ain t he a awful kind Raggedy Man? 
 Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 
 
 An The Raggedy Man one time say he 
 
 Pick roast rambos from a orchurd-tree, 
 
 An et em all ist roast an hot ! 
 
 An it s so, too ! cause a corn-crib got 
 
 Afire one time an all burn down 
 
 On "The Smoot Farm," bout four mile from town- 
 
 B85 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 On "The Smoot Farm" ! Yes an the hired han 
 At worked there nen uz The Raggedy Man ! 
 Ain t he the beatin est Raggedy Man? 
 Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 
 
 The Raggedy Man s so good an kind 
 He ll be our "horsey," an "haw"- an mind 
 Ever thing at you make him do 
 An* won t run off less you want him to ! 
 I drived him wunst way down our lane 
 An he got skeered, when it menced to rain, 
 An ist rared up an squealed and run 
 Purt nigh away ! an it s all in fun ! 
 Nen he skeered ag in at a old tin can . . . 
 Whoa ! y old runaway Raggedy Man ! 
 Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 
 
 An The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes, 
 An tells em, ef I be good, sometimes : 
 Knows bout Giunts, an Griffuns, an Elves, 
 An the Squidgicum-Squees at swallers the rselves i 
 An , wite by the pump in our pasture-lot, 
 He showed me the hole at the Wunks is got, 
 At lives way deep in the ground, an can 
 Turn into me, cr Lizabuth Ann ! 
 Er Ala, er Pa, er The Raggedy Man ! 
 Ain t he a funny old Raggedy Man? 
 Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 
 
 An* wunst, when The Raggedy Man come late, 
 An pigs ist root time the garden-gate, 
 He tend like the pigs uz bears an said, 
 "Old Bear-shooter ll shoot em dead !" 
 186 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An race an* chase em, an they d ist run 
 When he pint his hoe at em like it s a gun 
 An go "Bang ! Bang !" nen tend he stan 
 An load up his gun ag in ! Raggedy Man ! 
 He s an old Bear-shooter Raggedy Man ! 
 Raggedy ! Raggedy ! Raggedy Man ! 
 
 An sometimes The Raggedy Man lets on 
 We re little prince-children, an old King s gone 
 To git more money, an lef us there 
 Aiid Robbers is ist thick ever where ; 
 An* nen ef we all won t cry, fer shore 
 The Raggedy Man he ll come and " splore 
 The Castul-halls," an steal the "gold" 
 An steal us, too, an grab an hold 
 An pack us off to his old "Cave" ! An 
 
 Haymow s the "cave" o The Raggedy Man ! 
 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! 
 
 The Raggedy Man one time, when he 
 Wuz makin a little bow- n -orry fer me, 
 Says "When you re big like your Pa is, 
 Air you go to keep a fine store like his 
 An be a rich merchunt an wear fine clothes? 
 Er what air you go to be, goodness knows ?" 
 An nen he laughed at Lizabuth Ann, 
 An I says " M go to be a Raggedy Man ! 
 I m ist go to be a nice Raggedy Man !" 
 Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! 
 
 I8 7 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 105 A Boy s Mother 
 
 MY mother she s so good to me, 
 Ef I was good as I could be, 
 I couldn t be as good no, sir ! 
 Can t any boy be good as her ! 
 
 She loves me when I m glad er sad ; 
 She loves me when I m good er bad ; 
 An , what s a funniest thing, she says 
 She loves me when she punishes. 
 
 I don t like her to punish me. 
 That don t hurt, but it hurts to see 
 Her cryin . Nen 7 cry; an nen 
 We both cry an be good again. 
 
 She loves me when she cuts an sews 
 My little cloak an Sund y clothes ; 
 An when my Pa comes home to tea, 
 She loves him most as much as me. 
 
 She laughs an tells him all I said, 
 An grabs me up an pats my head : 
 An I hug her, an hug my Pa. 
 An love him purt nigh as much as Ma. 
 
 188 
 
THE HOOSIKR BOOK 
 
 1 06 The Fishing Party 
 
 WUNST we went a-fishin Ale 
 An my Pa an Ma all three, 
 When they wuz a pic-nic, way 
 Out to Ranch s Woods, one day. 
 
 An they wuz a crick out there, 
 Where the fishes is, an where 
 Little boys taint big an strong, 
 Better have their folks along! 
 
 My Pa he ist fished an fished ! 
 An my Ma she said she wished 
 Me an her was home ; an Pa 
 Said he wished so worse n Ma. 
 
 Pa said ef you talk, er say 
 Anything, er sneeze, er play, 
 Hain t no fish, -alive er dead, 
 Ever go to bite ! he said. 
 
 Purt nigh dark in town when we 
 Got back home ; an Ma says she, 
 Now she ll have a fish fer shore! 
 An she buyed one at the store. 
 
 Nen at supper, Pa he won t 
 Eat no fish, an says he don t 
 Like em. An he pounded me 
 When I choked! . . . Ma, didn t he? 
 
 189 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 107 The Boy Lives on Our Farm 
 
 THE Boy lives on our Farm, he s not 
 Afeard o horses none ! 
 An he can make em lope, er trot, 
 
 Er rack, er pace, er run. 
 Sometimes he drives two horses, when 
 
 He comes to town an brings 
 A wagon-full o taters nen, 
 An roastin -ears an things. 
 
 Two horses is "a team," he says, 
 
 An when you drive er hitch, 
 The right-un s a "near-horse," I guess, 
 
 Er "off" I don t know which. 
 The Boy lives on our Farm, he told 
 
 Me, too, at he can see, 
 By lookin at their teeth, how old 
 
 A horse is, to a T ! 
 
 I d be the gladdest boy alive 
 
 Ef I knowed much as that, 
 An could stand up like him an drive, 
 
 An ist push back my hat, 
 Like he comes skallyhootin through 
 
 Our alley, with one arm 
 A-wavin Fare-ye-well ! to you 
 
 The Boy lives on our Farm ! 
 
 fnbib t iM . . 
 
 190 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 108 The Runaway Boy 
 
 WUNST I sassed my Pa, an he 
 Won t stand that, an punished me,- 
 Nen when he wuz gone that day, 
 I slipped out an runned away. 
 
 I tooked all my copper-cents, 
 An clumbed over our back fence 
 In the jimpson-weeds at growed 
 Ever where all down the road. 
 
 Nen I got out there, an nen 
 
 I runned some an runned again 
 
 When I met a man at led 
 
 A big cow at shooked her head. 
 
 I went down a long, long lane 
 Where was little pigs a-play n ; 
 An a grea -big pig went "Booh !" 
 An jumped up, an skeered me too, 
 
 Nen I scampered past, an they 
 Was somebody hollered "Hey !" 
 An I ist looked ever where, 
 An they wuz nobody there. 
 
 I want to, but I m fraid to try 
 To go back. . . . An by-an -by, 
 Somepin hurts my th oat inside 
 An I want my Ma an* cried. 
 
 191 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Nen a grea -big girl come through 
 Where s a gate, an* telled me who 
 Am 1 ? an ef I tell where 
 My home s at she ll show me there. 
 
 But I couldn t ist but tell 
 What s my name; an she says "well/ 
 An* she tooked me up an says 
 "She know where I live, she guess." 
 
 Nen she telled me hug wite close 
 Round her neck ! an off she goes 
 Skippin up the street ! An nen 
 Purty soon I m home again. 
 
 An my Ma, when she kissed me, 
 Kissed the big girl too, an she 
 Kissed me ef I p omise shore 
 I won t run away no more ! 
 
 109 Our Hired Girl 
 
 OUR hired girl, she s Lizabuth Ann ; 
 An she can cook best things to eat ! 
 She ist puts dough in our pie-pan, 
 
 An pours in somepin at s good and sweet; 
 An nen she salts it all on top 
 With cinnamon ; an nen she ll stop 
 An stoop an slide it, ist as slow, 
 In th old cook-stove, so s twon t slop 
 192 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An git all spilled; nen bakes it, so 
 It s custard pie, first thing you know 1 
 
 An* nen she ll say : 
 "Clear out o my way! 
 They s time fer work, an time fer play!- 
 
 Take yer dough, an rim, child, run ! 
 
 Er I cain t git no cookin done 1" 
 
 When our hired girl tends like she s mad, 
 
 An says folks got to walk the chalk 
 When she s around, er wisht they had, 
 
 I play out on our porch an talk 
 To Th* Raggedy Man at mows our lawn ; 
 An he says "IV hew!" an* nen leans on 
 
 His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes 
 An* sniffs all round an says, "I swawn ! 
 
 Ef my old nose don t tell me lies, 
 
 It pears like I smell custard-pies !" 
 An nen he ll say, 
 
 "Clear out o my way ! 
 
 They s time fer work, an time fer play ! 
 Take yer dough, an run, child, run ! 
 Er she cain t git no cookin done !" 
 
 Wunst our hired girl, when she 
 
 Got the supper, an we all et, 
 An it was night, an Ma an me 
 
 An Pa went wher the "Social" met, 
 An* nen when we come home, an see 
 A light in the kitchen-door, an we 
 
 Heerd a maccordeun, Pa says "Lan - 
 O -Gracious! who can her beau be?" 
 
 193 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An I marched in, an Lizabuth Ann 
 
 Wuz parchin corn fer The Raggedy Man I 
 
 Better say 
 
 "Clear out o the way ! 
 They s time fer work, an time fer play I 
 
 Take the hint, an run, child, run ! 
 
 Er we cain t git no courtin* done !" 
 
GREEN FIELDS AND RUNNING 
 BROOKS 
 
 no On the Banks O Deer Crick 
 
 ON THE banks o Deer Crick ! There s the place fer 
 me! 
 
 Worter slidin past ye jes as clair as it kin be : 
 See yer shadder in it, and the shadder o the sky, 
 And the shadder o the buzzard as he goes a-lazin* by; 
 Shadder o the pizen-vines, and shadder o the trees 
 And I purt nigh said the shadder o the sunshine and the 
 
 breeze ! 
 
 Well I never seen the ocean ner I never seen the sea : 
 On the banks o Deer Crick s grand enough fer me ! 
 
 On the banks o Deer Crick mil d er two front town 
 Long tip where the mill-race comes a-loafin down, 
 Like to git up in there mongst the sycamores 
 And watch the worter at the dam, a-f rothin as she pours : 
 Crawl out on some old log, with my hook and line, 
 Where the fish is jes so thick you kin see em shine 
 As they flicker round yer bait, coaxin you to jerk, 
 Tel yer tired ketchin of em, mighty nigh, as work! 
 
 On the banks o Deer Crick ! Allus my delight 
 Jes to be around there take it day er night ! 
 Watch the snipes and killdees foolin half the day 
 Er these- ere little worter-bugs skootin ever way ! 
 
 195 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Snake-feeders glancin round, er dartin out o sight ; 
 And dewfall, and bullfrogs, and lightnin -bugs at night 
 Stars up through the tree-tops er in the crick below, 
 And smell o mussrat through the dark clean from the old 
 by-o! 
 
 Er take a tromp, some Sund y, say, way up to "Johnson s 
 
 Hole," 
 
 And find where lie s had a fire, and hid his fishin -pole : 
 Have yer "dog-leg" with ye, and yer pipe and "cut-and- 
 
 dry"- 
 
 Pocketful o corn-bread, and slug er two o rye, 
 Soak yer hide in sunshine and waller in the shade 
 Like the Good Book tells us "where there re none to make 
 
 afraid !" 
 
 Well ! I never seen the ocean ner I never seen the sea 
 On the banks o Deer Crick s grand enough f er me ! 
 
 .-nwoi frrf b lrtn- obit? 13 jCl *o ajlnfid 3rfi n 
 
 in How John Quit the Farm 
 
 NOBODY on the old farm here but Mother, me and 
 John, 
 Except, of course, the extry he p when harvest-time come 
 
 on 
 
 And then, I want to say to you, we needed he p about, 
 As you d admit, ef you d a seen the way the crops turned 
 out! 
 
 A better quarter-section, ner a richer soil warn t found 
 Than this-here old-home place o ourn fer fifty miles 
 around ! 
 
 196 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The house was small but plenty-big we found it from the 
 
 day 
 That John our only livin son packed up and went away. 
 
 You see, we tuk sich pride in John his mother more n 
 
 me 
 That s natchurul ; but both of us was proud as proud could 
 
 be; 
 
 Per the boy, from a little chap, was most oncommon bright, 
 And seemed in work as well as play to take the same 
 
 delight. 
 
 He allus went a-whistlin round the place, as glad at heart 
 
 As robins up at five o clock to git an airly start ; 
 
 And many a time fore daylight Mother s waked me up 
 to say 
 
 "Jes* listen, David ! listen ! Johnny s beat the birds to 
 day !" 
 
 High-sperited from boyhood, with a most inquirin turn, 
 He wanted to learn ever thing on earth they was to learn : 
 He d ast more plaguy questions in a mortal-minute here 
 Than his grandpap in Paradise could answer in a year ! 
 
 And read! w y, his own mother learnt him how to read and 
 
 spell; 
 And "The Childern of the Abbey" w y, he knowed that 
 
 book as well 
 At fifteen as his parents ! and "The Pilgrim s Progress," 
 
 too 
 Jes knuckled down, the shaver did, and read em through 
 
 and through ! 
 
 197 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 At eighteen, Mother lowed the boy must have a better 
 
 chance 
 
 That we ort to educate him, under any circumstance ; 
 And John he j ined his mother, and they ding-donged and 
 
 kep on, 
 Tel I sent him off to school in town, half glad that he was 
 
 gone. 
 
 But I missed him w y, of course I did! The Fall and 
 
 Winter through 
 
 I never built the kitchen-fire, er split a stick in two, 
 Er fed the stock, er butchered, er swung up a gambrel- 
 
 pin, 
 But what I thought o John, and wished that he was home 
 
 ag in. 
 
 He d come, sometimes on Sund ys most and stay the 
 
 Sund y out; 
 
 And on Thanksgivin -Day he peared to like to be about : 
 But a change was workin on him he was stiller than 
 
 before, 
 And didn t joke, ner laugh, ner sing and whistle any more. 
 
 And his talk was all so proper ; and I noticed, with a sigh, 
 He was tryin to raise side-whiskers, and had on a striped 
 
 tie, 
 
 And a standin -collar, ironed up as stiff and slick as bone ; 
 And a breast-pin, and a watch and chain and plug-hat of 
 
 his own. 
 
 But when Spring-weather opened out, and John was to 
 
 come home 
 And he p me through the season, I was glad to see him 
 
 come; 
 
 198 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But my happiness, that evening, with the settin sun went 
 
 down, 
 When he bragged of "a position" that was offered him in 
 
 town. 
 
 "But," says I, "you ll not accept it?" "W y, of course I 
 
 will," says he. 
 
 "This drudgin on a farm," he says, "is not the life fer me; 
 I ve set my stakes up higher/ he continued, light and gay, 
 "And town s the place fer me, and I m a-goin right away!" 
 
 And go he did ! his mother clingin to him at the gate, 
 A-pleadin and a-cryin ; but it hadn t any weight. 
 I was tranquiller, and told her twarn t no use to worry so, 
 And enclasped her arms from round his neck round mine 
 and let him go ! 
 
 I felt a little bitter feelin* foolin round about 
 The aidges of my conscience; but I didn t let it out; 
 I simply retch out, trimbly-like, and tuk the boy s hand, 
 And though I didn t say a word, I knowed he d understand. 
 
 And well! sence then the old home here was mighty 
 
 lonesome, shore ! 
 
 With me, a-workin in the field, and Mother at the door, 
 Her face ferever to rds the town, and fadin* more and 
 
 more 
 Her only son nine miles away, a-clerkin in a store ! 
 
 The weeks and months dragged by us ; and sometimes the 
 
 boy would write 
 
 A letter to his mother, sayin that his work was light, 
 And not to feel oneasy about his health a bit 
 Though his business was confinin , he was gittin used to it. 
 199 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And sometimes he would write and ast liow / was gittin 
 
 on, 
 
 And ef I had to pay out much fer he p sence he was gone ; 
 And how the hogs was doin , and the balance of the stock, 
 And talk on fer a page er two jes like he used to talk. 
 
 And he wrote, along fore harvest, that he guessed he 
 
 would git home, 
 Fer business would, of course, be dull in town. But he 
 
 didn t come : 
 
 We got a postal later, sayin when they had no trade 
 They filled the time "invoicin goods," and that was why he 
 
 stayed. 
 
 - :>m<fr bflHOi afc>9n fcifl bauoi mo"d Z-H: .::;:;><; 
 And then he quit a-writin altogether: Not a word 
 Exceptin what the neighbers brung who d been to town 
 
 and heard 
 
 What store John was clerkin in, and went round to inquire 
 If they could buy their goods there less and sell their 
 
 produce higher. 
 
 And so the Summer faded out, and Autumn wore away, 
 And a keener Winter never fetched around Thanksgivin - 
 
 Day! 
 
 The night before that day of thanks I ll never quite fergit, 
 The wind a-howlin* round the house it makes me creepy 
 
 yit! 
 
 And there set me and Mother me a-twistin at the prongs 
 Of a green scrub-ellum forestick with a vicious pair of 
 tongs, 
 
 200 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And Mother sayin , "David! David!" in a undertone, 
 As though she thought that I was thinkin bad-words 
 unbeknown. 
 
 "I ve dressed the turkey, David, fer to-morrow," Mother 
 
 said, 
 A-tryin to wedge some pleasant subject in my stubborn 
 
 head 
 "And the mince-meat I m a-mixin is perfection mighty 
 
 nigh ; 
 And the pound-cake is delicious-rich " "Who ll eat em?" 
 
 I-says-I. 
 
 "The cramberries is drippin -sweet," says Mother, runnin* 
 
 on, 
 P tendin not to hear me ; "and somehow I thought of 
 
 John 
 All the time they was a-jellin fer you know they allus 
 
 was 
 His favorite he likes em so !" Says I, "Well s pose he 
 
 does?" 
 
 "Oh, nothin much !" says Mother, with a quiet sort o 
 
 smile 
 "This gentleman behind my cheer may tell you after 
 
 while !" 
 And as I turned and looked around, some one riz up and 
 
 leant 
 And putt his arms round Mother s neck, and laughed in low 
 
 content. 
 
 ".YSW rj rx JoM KB ff -fl". 
 201 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "It s me," he says "your fool-boy John, come back to 
 
 shake your hand ; 
 Set down with you, and talk with you, and make you 
 
 understand 
 
 How dearer yit than all the world is this old home that we 
 Will spend Thanksgivin in fer life jes Mother, you and 
 
 me !" 
 
 Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and John, 
 Except, of course, the extry he p when harvest-time comes 
 
 on ; 
 
 And then, I want to say to you, we need sich he p about, 
 As you d admit, ef you could see the way the crops turns 
 
 out! 
 
 112 His Mother s W a 
 
 S ud allus haf to say 
 Somepin bout "his mother s way." 
 He lived hard-like never j ined 
 Any church of any kind. 
 "It was Mother s way," says he, 
 "To be good enough fer me 
 And her too, and cert inly 
 
 Lord has heerd her pray !" 
 Propped up on his dyin bed, 
 "Shore as Heaven s overhead, 
 I m a-goin there," he said 
 
 "It was Mother s way." 
 
 202 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Jap Miller 
 
 JAP MILLER down at Martinsville s the blamedest 
 feller yit! 
 
 When he starts in a-talkin other folks is apt to quit ! 
 Pears like that mouth o his n wuzn t made fer nothin else 
 But jes to argify em down and gether in their pelts: 
 He ll talk you down on tariff ; er he ll talk you down on 
 
 tax, 
 And prove the pore man pays em all and them s about the 
 
 f ac s ! 
 
 Religen, law, er politics, prize-fightin , er baseball 
 Jes tetch Jap up a little and he ll post you bout em all. 
 
 ol ; 
 
 And the comicalest feller ever tilted back a cheer 
 And tuk a chaw tobacker kind o like he didn t keer. 
 There s where the feller s stren th lays, he s so common- 
 like and plain, 
 They hain t no dude about old Jap, you bet you nary 
 
 grain ! 
 
 They lected him to Council and it never turned his head, 
 And didn t make no differunce what anybody said, 
 He didn t dress no finer, ner rag out in fancy clothes ; 
 But his voice in Council-meetin s is a turrer to his foes. 
 
 He s fer the pore man ever time! And in the last cam 
 paign 
 
 He stumped old Morgan County, through the sunshine and 
 the rain, 
 
 And helt the banner up ards from a-trailin in the dust 
 
 And cut loose on monopolies and cuss d and cuss d and 
 cuss d ! 
 
 203 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 He d tell some funny story ever now and then, you know, 
 Tel, blame it! it wuz better n a jack-o -lantern show! 
 And I d go furder, yit, to-day, to hear old Jap norate 
 Than any high-toned orator at ever stumped the State ! 
 
 W y, that-air blame Jap Miller, with his keen sircastic fun, 
 Has got more friends than ary candidate at ever run ! 
 Don t matter what his views is, when he states the same 
 
 to you, 
 
 They allus coincide with yourn, the same as two and two : 
 You can t take issue with him er, at least, they hain t no 
 
 sense 
 
 In startin in to clown him, so you better not commence. 
 The best way s jes to listen, like your humble servant does, 
 And jes concede Jap Miller is the best man ever wuz! 
 
 H4 Jack the Giant Killer 
 
 BAD BOY S VERSION 
 
 TELL you a story an it s a f ac : 
 Wunst wuz a little boy, name wuz Jack, 
 An he had a sword an buckle an strap 
 Maked of gold, an a " visibul cap" ; 
 An he kilkd Gi nts at et whole cows 
 Th horns an all an pigs an sows! 
 But Jack, his golding sword wuz, oh ! 
 So awful sharp at he could go 
 204 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An* cut th f ole Gi nts clean in too 
 
 Tore ey knowed what he wuz goin to do ! 
 
 An* one ole Gi nt, he had four 
 
 Heads, and name wuz "Bumblebore" 
 
 An he wuz feared o Jack cause he, 
 
 Jack, he killed six five ten three, 
 
 An all o th uther ole Gi nts hut him : 
 
 An thay wuz a place Jack haf to swim 
 
 Fore he could git t ole "Bumblebore"- 
 
 Nen thay wuz "griffuns" at the door : 
 
 But Jack, he thist plunged in an* swum 
 
 Clean acrost; an when he come 
 
 To th uther side, he thist put on 
 
 His " visibul cap," an nen, dog-gone ! 
 
 You couldn t see him at all ! An so 
 
 He slewed the "griffuns" boff, you know! 
 
 Nen wuz a horn hunged over his head, 
 
 High on th wall, an words at read, 
 
 "Whoever kin this trumput blow 
 
 Shall cause the Gi nt s overth ow!" 
 
 An* Jack, he thist reached up an blowed 
 
 The stuffin out of it ! an th owed 
 
 Th castul-gates wide open, an 
 
 Nen tuk his gold sword in his han , 
 
 An thist marched in t* ole "Bumblebore," 
 
 An , fore he knowed, he put bout four 
 
 Heads on him an chopped em off, too! 
 
 Wisht at I d been Jack! don t you? 
 
 205 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 j/5 Farmer Whipple. Bachelor 
 
 IT S a mystery to see me a man o fifty-four, 
 Who s lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year and 
 
 more 
 
 A-lookin glad and smilin ! And they s none o you can sa 
 That you can guess the reason why I. feel so good to-day ! 
 
 I must tell you all about it ! But I ll have to deviate 
 A little in beginnin so s to set the matter straight 
 As to how it comes to happen that I never took a wife 
 Kind o "crawfish" from the Present to the Spring-time of 
 my life ! 
 
 I was brought up in the country: Of a family of five 
 
 Three brothers and a sister I m the only one alive, 
 
 Fer they all died little babies; and twas one o Mother s 
 
 ways, 
 You know, to want a daughter ; so she took a girl to raise. 
 
 The sweetest little thing she was, with rosy cheeks, and 
 
 fat- 
 
 We was little chunks o shavers then about as high as that ! 
 But some way we sort o suited-\ike ! and Mother she d 
 
 declare 
 She never laid her eyes on a more lovin pair 
 
 Than we was ! So we growed up side by side fer thirteen 
 
 year , 
 And every hour of it she growed to me more dear ! 
 
 206 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 W y, even Father s dyin , as he did, I do believe 
 
 Warn t more affectin to me than it was to see her grieve! 
 
 I was then a lad o twenty; and I felt a flash o pride 
 In thinkin all depended on me now to pervide 
 Per Mother and f er Mary ; and I went about the place 
 With sleeves rolled up and workin , with a mighty smilin* 
 face. 
 
 Fer sompin else was workin ! but not a word I said 
 
 Of a certain sort o notion that was runnin through my 
 
 head, 
 
 "Some day I d maybe marry, and a brother s love was one 
 Thing a lover s was another!" was the way the notion 
 
 run! 
 
 I remember onc t in harvest, when the "cradle-in " was 
 done 
 
 (When the harvest of my summers mounted up to twenty- 
 one), 
 
 I was ridin home with Mary at the closin* o the day 
 
 A-chawin straws and thinkin , in a lover s lazy way! 
 
 And Mary s cheeks was burnin like the sunset down the 
 
 lane : 
 
 I noticed she was thinkin , too, and ast her to explain. 
 Well when she turned and kissed me, with her arms 
 
 around me law! 
 I d a bigger load o Heaven than I had a load o straw ! 
 
 T don t p tend to learnin , but I ll tell you what s a fac , 
 They s a mighty truthful sayin somers in a almanac 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Er somers bout "puore happiness" perhaps some folks ll 
 
 laugh 
 At the idy "only lastin jest two seconds and a half." 
 
 But it s jest as true as preachin ! fer that was a sister s 
 
 kiss, 
 
 And a sister s lovin confidence a-tellin to me this: 
 "She was happy, be in promised to the son o farmer 
 
 Brown," 
 And my feelin s struck a pardnership with sunset and went 
 
 down ! 
 
 I don t know how I acted, I don t know what I said, 
 Fer my heart seemed jest a-turnin to an ice-cold lump o 
 
 lead; 
 
 And the hosses kind o glimmered before me in the road, 
 And the lines fell from my fingers And that was all I 
 
 knowed 
 -jr"ov/> ?.>,* t?? ff j- :; fi ? : firm. ?, vrr? 1<> J- r .<rr.(.H 
 
 Fer well, I don t know how long They s a dim remem- 
 
 berence 
 
 Of a sound o snortin hosses, and a stake-and-ridered fence 
 A-whizzin past, and wheat-sheaves a-dancin in the air. 
 And Mary screamin "Murder !" and a-runnin up to where 
 
 7 was layin by the roadside, and the wagon upside down 
 A-leanin on the gate-post, with the wheels a-whirlin 
 
 round ! 
 And I tried to raise and meet her, but I couldn t, with a 
 
 vague 
 Sort o* notion comin to me that I had a broken leg. 
 
 208 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Well, the women missed me through it; but many a time 
 
 I d sigh 
 
 As I d keep a-gittin better instid o goin to die, 
 And wonder what was left me worth livin fer below, 
 When the girl I loved was married to another, don t you 
 
 know ! 
 
 And my thoughts was as rebellious as the folks was good 
 
 and kind 
 When Brown and Mary married Railly must a been my 
 
 wind 
 
 Was kind o out o kilter ! fer I hated Brown, you see, 
 Worse n pizen and the feller whittled crutches out fer 
 
 me 
 
 And done a thousand little ac s o kindness and respec 
 And me a-wishin all the time that I could break his neck ! 
 My relief was like a mourner s when the funeral is done 
 When they moved to Illinois in the Fall o Forty-one. 
 
 Then I went to work in airnest I had nothin much in 
 
 view 
 
 But to drownd out rickollections and it kep me busy, too ! 
 But I slowly thrived and prospered, tel Mother used to 
 
 say 
 She expected yit to see me a wealthy man some day. 
 
 Then I d think how little money was, compared to happi 
 ness 
 
 And who d be left to use it when I died I couldn t guess ! 
 But I ve still kep speculatin and a-gainin year by year, 
 Tel I m payin half the taxes in the county, mighty near ! 
 
 209 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Well ! A year ago er better, a letter comes to hand 
 Astin how I d like to dicker fer some Illinois land 
 "The feller that had owned it," it went ahead to state, 
 "Had jest deceased, insolvent, leavin chance to specu 
 late," 
 
 And then it closed by sayin that I d "better come and 
 
 see." 
 
 I d never been West, anyhow a most too wild fer me, 
 I d allus had a notion ; but a lawyer here in town 
 Said I d find myself mistakend when I come to look around. 
 
 So I bids-good-by to Mother, and I jumps aboard the 
 
 train, 
 A-thinkin* what I d bring her when I come back home 
 
 again 
 
 And ef she d had an idy what the present was to be, 
 I think it s more n likely she d a went along with me ! 
 
 Cars is awful tejus ridin , fer all they go so fast! 
 But finally they called out my stoppin -place at last : 
 And that night, at the tavern, I dreamp I was a train 
 O cars, and sheered at sornepin , runnin down a country 
 lane! 
 
 Well, in the mornin airly after huntin up the man 
 The lawyer who was wantin to swap the piece o land 
 We started fer the country ; and I ast the history 
 Of the farm its former owner and so forth, etcetery! 
 
 And well it was inters/in I su prised him, I suppose 
 By the loud and frequent manner in which I blowed my 
 nose ! 
 
 210 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But his su prise was greater, and it made him wonder more, 
 When I kissed and hugged the widder when she met us at 
 the door ! 
 
 It was Mary: . . . They s a feelin a-hidin down in 
 
 here 
 
 Of course I can t explain it, ner ever make it clear. 
 It was with us in that meetin , I don t want you to f ergit ! 
 And it makes me kind o nervous when I think about it yit ! 
 
 I bought that farm, and deeded it, afore I left the town, 
 With "title clear to mansions in the skies," to Mary Brown ! 
 And fu thermore, I took her and the childern fer you see, 
 They d never seed their Grandma and I fetched em home 
 with me. 
 
 So now you ve got an idy why a man o fifty-four, 
 Who s lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year and more, 
 Is a-lookin glad and smilin ! And I ve jest come into 
 
 town 
 To git a pair o license fer to marry Mary Brown. 
 
 116 Dawn, Noon and Dewfall 
 
 DAWN, noon and dewfall ! Bluebird and robin 
 Up and at it airly, and the orchard-blossoms bobbin ! 
 Peekin from the winder, half awake, and wishin 
 I could go to sleep ag in as well as go a-fishin ! 
 
 211 
 
THE HOOSTER BOOK 
 
 On the apern o* the dam, legs a-danglin over, 
 Drowsy-like with sound o worter and the smell o clover: 
 Fish all out a-visitin cept some dratted minnor ! 
 Yes, and mill shet down at last and hands is gone to 
 dinner. 
 
 in 
 
 Trompin home acrost the fields : Lightnin -bugs a-blinkin 
 In the wheat like sparks o things feller keeps a-thinkin : 
 Mother waitin supper, and the childern there to cherr me ! 
 And fiddle on the kitchen-wall a-jes a-eechin fer me! 
 
 I 
 
 1/7 As My Uncle Used to Say 
 
 :^[ j/ l fmA I jTilim;- bm: I;/:; ::" .:. 
 VE thought a power on men and things 
 As my uncle ust to say, 
 And ef folks don t work as they pray, i jings! 
 
 W y they ain t no use to pray! 
 Ef you want somepin , and jes dead-set 
 A-pleadin fer it with both eyes wet, 
 And tears won t bring it, w y, you try sweat 
 As my uncle ust to say. 
 
 They s some don t know their A, B, C s 
 
 As my uncle ust to say 
 And yit don t waste no candle-grease, 
 
 Ner whistle their lives away! 
 212 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But ef they can t write no book, ner rhyme 
 No ringin song fer to last all time, 
 They can blaze the way fer "the march sublime/ 
 As my uncle ust to say. 
 
 Whoever s Foreman of all things here, 
 
 As my uncle ust to say, 
 He knows each job at we re best fit fer, 
 
 And our round-up, night and day : 
 And a-sizin His work, east and west, 
 And north and south, and worst and best, 
 I ain t got nothin to suggest, 
 
 As my uncle ust to say. 
 
 118 A Full Harvest 
 
 SEEMS like a feller d ort o jes to-day 
 Git down and roll and waller, don t you know 
 
 In that-air stubble, and flop up and crow, 
 Seein sich crops ! I ll undertake to say 
 There re no wheat s ever turned out thataway 
 
 Afore this season ! Folks is keerless, though, 
 
 And too fergitful caze we d ort o show 
 More thankfulness! Jes looky hyonder, hey? 
 
 And watch that little reaper wadin thue 
 That last old yaller hunk o harvest-ground 
 
 Jes natchur ly a-slicin it in two 
 Like honeycomb, and gaumin it around 
 
 The field like it had nothin else to do 
 
 On y jes waste it all on me and you! 
 213 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 
 up Right Here at Home 
 
 RIGHT here at home, boys, in old Hoosierdom, 
 Where strangers allus joke us when they come ; 
 And brag o their old States and interprize 
 Yit settle here; and fore they realize, 
 They re "hoosier" as the rest of us, and live 
 Right here at home, boys, with their past f ergive ! 
 
 Right here at home, boys, is the place, I guess, 
 Fer me and you and plain old happiness : 
 We hear the World s lots grander likely so, 
 We ll take the World s word fer it and not go. 
 We know its ways ain t our ways so we ll stay 
 Right here at home, boys, where we know the way 
 
 Right here at home, boys, where a well-to-do 
 Man s plenty rich enough and knows it, too, 
 And s got a extry dollar, any time, 
 To boost a feller up at wants to climb 
 And s got the git-up in him to go in 
 And git there, like he purt nigh allus kin ! 
 
 Right here at home, boys, is the place fer us ! 
 Where folks heart s bigger n their money-pu s ; 
 And where a common feller s jes as good 
 As ary other in the neighberhood : 
 The World at large don t worry you and me 
 Right here at home, boys, where we ort to be ! 
 I uov l>fi am-:, no He J? y;>ir.v V 
 
 214 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Right here at home, boys jes right where we air! 
 Birds don t sing any sweeter anywhere : 
 Grass don t grow any greener n she grows 
 Across the pastur where the old path goes, 
 All things in ear-shot s purty, er in sight, 
 Right here at home, boys, ef we sice em right. 
 
 Right here at home, boys, where the old home-place 
 
 Is sacerd to us as our mother s face, 
 
 Jes as we rickollect her, last she smiled 
 
 And kissed us dyin so and rickonciled, 
 
 Seem us all at home here none astray 
 
 Right here at home, boys, where she sleeps to-day. 
 
 f -^wpri3i yo^ ^ ^ ibrrJ ?/o\ nA 
 .WOT R ni Jffi ilooJ p. irfJDiq ibrIT 
 
 120 Sister Jones s Confession 
 
 I THOUGHT the deacon liked me, yit 
 I warn t adzackly shore of it 
 Per, mind ye, time and time ag in, 
 When jiners ud be comin in, 
 I d seed him shakin hands as free 
 With all the sistern as with me! 
 But jurin last Revival, where 
 He called on me to lead in prayer, 
 An kneeled there with me, side by side, 
 A-whisper n* "he felt sanctified 
 Jes tetchin of my gyarment s hem," 
 That settled things as fur as them- 
 Thare other wimmin was concerned! 
 And well ! I know I must a turned 
 
 215 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 A dozen colors! Flurried? la! 
 No mortal sinner never saw 
 A gladder widder than the one 
 A-kneelin there and wonderun 
 Who d pray! So glad, upon my word, 
 I railly couldn t thank the Lord! 
 
 Iry and Billy and Jo 
 
 A TINTYPE 
 
 -- -VKttei. jnon -JTJ I rKrtori iB OK ?n nh 
 
 IRY an Billy an Jo! 
 Iry an Billy s the boys, 
 An Jo s their dog, you know, 
 Their pictur s took all in a row. 
 Bet they kin kick up a noise 
 Iry and Billy, the boys, 
 And that-air little dog Jo! 
 
 Iry s the one at stands 
 
 Up there a-lookin so mild 
 An meek with his hat in his hands, 
 
 Like such a bediant child 
 (Sakcs-alive!)An Billy he sets 
 In the cheer an holds on to Jo an sweats 
 Hisse f, a-lookin so good! Ho-ho ! 
 
 Iry an Billy an Jo ! 
 
 Yit the way them boys, you know, 
 
 Usen to jes turn in 
 An fight over that dog Jo 
 
 Wuz a burnin -shame-an -a-sin ! 
 
 216 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Iry he d argy at, by gee-whizz ! 
 That-air little Jo-dog wuz his! 
 An* Billy he d claim it wuzn t so 
 Cause the dog wuz hisn! An at it they d go, 
 Nip-an -tugg, tooth-an -toe-nail, you know- 
 Try an Billy an Jo ! 
 
 But their Pa (He wuz the marshal then) 
 
 He tended-like at he jerked em up; 
 An got a jury o Brick-yard men 
 An helt a trial about the pup : 
 An he says he jes like to a died 
 When the rest o us town-boys testified 
 Regardin , you know, 
 Iry an Billy an* Jo. 
 
 Cause we all knowed, when the Gipsies they 
 
 Camped down here by the crick last Fall, 
 They brung Jo with em, an give him away 
 
 To Iry an Billy f er nothin at all ! 
 So the jury fetched in the verdick so 
 
 Jo he ain t neether o theirn fer shore 
 
 He s both their dog, an jes no more! 
 
 An so 
 
 They ve quit quarrelin long ago, 
 
 Iry an Billy an Jo. 
 
 217 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 122 Them Flowers 
 
 TAKE a feller at s sick and laid up on the shelf, 
 All shaky, and ga nted, and pore 
 Jes all so knocked out he can t handle hisself 
 
 With a stiff upper-lip any more; 
 Shet him up all alone in the gloom of a room 
 
 As dark as the tomb, and as grim, 
 And then take and send him some roses in bloom, 
 And you can have fun out o him ! 
 
 You ve ketched him fore now when his liver 
 was sound 
 
 And his appetite notched like a saw 
 A-mockin you, maybe, fer romancin round 
 
 With a big posy-bunch in yer paw; 
 But you ketch him, say, when his health is away, 
 
 And he s flat on his back in distress, 
 And then you kin trot out yer little bokay 
 
 And not be insulted, I guess ! 
 
 You see, it s like this, what his weakness is, 
 
 Them flowers makes him think of the days 
 Of his innocent youth, and that mother o his, 
 
 And the roses that she us t to raise : 
 So here, all alone with the roses you send 
 
 Bein sick and all trimbly and faint, 
 My eyes is my eyes is my eyes is old friend 
 
 Is a-leakin I m blamed ef they ain t ! 
 
 218 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 By Any Other Name 
 
 FIRST the teacher called the roll, 
 Clos t to the beginning 
 "Addeliney Bowersox !" 
 
 Set the school a-grinnin . 
 Winter-time, and stingin cold 
 
 When the session took up 
 Cold as we all looked at her, 
 Though she couldn t look up ! 
 
 Total stranger to us, too 
 
 Country folks ain t allus 
 Nigh so shameful unpolite 
 
 As some people call us! 
 But the honest facts is, then, 
 
 Addeliney Bower- 
 Sox s feelin s was so hurt 
 
 She cried half an hour! 
 
 My dest was acrost from hern : 
 
 Set and watched her tryin 
 To p tend she didn t keer, 
 
 And a kind o dryin 
 Up her tears with smiles tel I 
 
 Thought, "Well, Addeliney 
 Bowersox is plain, but she s 
 
 Purty as a piney!" 
 
 It s be n many of a year 
 Sence that most oncommon 
 
 Cur ous name o Bowersox 
 Struck me so abomin- 
 219 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Nubble and outlandish-like ! 
 I changed it to Adde- 
 
 Liney Daubenspeck and that 
 Nearly killed her Daddy! 
 
 124. The Hoodoo 
 
 OWNED a pair o skates onc t. Traded 
 Fer em, stropped em on and waded 
 Up and down the crick, a-waitin 
 Tel she d freeze up fit fer skatin . 
 Mildest winter I remember 
 
 More like Spring- than Winter-weather! 
 Didn t frost tel bout December 
 
 Git up airly ketch a feather 
 Of it, mayby, crost the winder 
 Sunshine swinge it like a cinder! 
 
 Well I waited and kep waitin ! 
 
 Couldn t see my money s wo th in 
 Them-air skates, and was no skatin 
 
 Ner no hint o ice ner nothin ! 
 So, one day along in airly 
 Spring I swopped em off and barely 
 Closed the dicker, fore the weather 
 
 Natchurly jes slipped the ratchet, 
 And crick tail-race all together, 
 
 Froze so tight cat couldn t scratch it ! 
 
 220 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 125 What Chris mas Fetched the 
 Wigginses 
 
 WINTER-TIME, er Summer-time, 
 Of late years I notice I m 
 Kind o like, more subjec to 
 What the weather is. Now, you 
 Folks at lives in town, I s pose, 
 Thinks it s bully when it snows; 
 But the chap at chops and hauls 
 Yer wood fer ye, and then stalls, 
 And snapps tuggs and swingletrees, 
 And then has to walk er freeze, 
 Hain t so much "stuck on" the snow 
 As stuck in it Bless ye, no ! 
 When it s packed, and sleighin s good, 
 And church in the neighberhood, 
 Them at s got their girls, I guess, 
 Takes em, likely, more er less. 
 Tell the plain facts o the case, 
 No men-folks about our place 
 On y me and Pap and he 
 Lows at young folks company 
 Allus made him sick! So I 
 Jes don t want, and jes don t try! 
 Chinkypin, the dad-burn town, 
 S too fur off to loaf aroun 
 Eether day er night and no 
 Law compellin me to go! 
 Less n some Old-Settlers Day, 
 Er big-doin s thataway 
 
 221 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Then, to tell the p inted fac , 
 I ve went more so s to come back 
 By old Guthrie s still-house, where 
 Minors has got licker there 
 That s pervidin we could show em 
 Old folks sent fer it from home! 
 Visit roun the neighbers some, 
 When the boys wants me to come. 
 Coon-hunt with em ; er set traps 
 Fer mussrats; er jes perhaps, 
 Lay in roun the stove, you know, 
 And parch corn, and let her snow 1 
 Mostly, nights like these, you ll be 
 (Ef you got a writ fer me) 
 Ap to skeer me up, I guess, 
 In about the Wigginses . 
 Nothin roun our place to keep 
 Me at home with Pap asleep 
 Fore it s dark ; and Mother in 
 Mango pickles to her chin; 
 And the girls, all still as death, 
 Piecin quilts. Sence I drawed breath 
 Twenty year ago, and heerd 
 Some girls whisper n so s it peared 
 Like they had a row o pins 
 In their mouth right there begins 
 My first rickollections, built 
 On that-air blame old piece-quilt ! 
 
 Summer-time, it s jes the same 
 Cause I ve noticed, and I claim, 
 
 222 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 As I said afore, I m more 
 Subjec to the weather, shore, 
 Preaching my majority, 
 Than I ever ust to be! 
 Callin back last Summer, say, 
 Don t seem hardly past away 
 With night closin in, and all 
 S lonesome-like in the dewfall : 
 Bats ad-drat their ugly muggs ! 
 Flicker n by ; and lightnin -bugs 
 Huckster n roun the airly night 
 Little sickly gasps o light; 
 Whippoorvvills, like all possess d, 
 Moanin out their mournfullest; 
 Frogs and katydids and things o>IU 
 Jes* clubs in and sings and sings 
 Their ding-dangdest! Stock s all fed, 
 And Pap s washed his feet fer bed; 
 Mother and the girls all down 
 At the milk-shed, foolin roun 
 No wunder at I git blue, 
 And lite out and so would you ! 
 I cain t stay aroun no place 
 Whur they hain t no livin face : 
 Crost the fields and thue the gaps 
 Of the hills they s friends, perhaps, 
 Waitin somers, at kin be 
 Kind o comfertin to me! 
 
 Neighbers all is plenty good, 
 Scattered thue this neighberhood ; 
 
 . ;- :i [IsJJiTi? // ".-* f-3. I *<;! // 
 
 22 3 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Yit, of all, I like to jes 
 Drap in on the Wigginses. 
 Old man, and old lady too, 
 Tear-like, makes so much o you 
 Least, they ve allus pampered me 
 Like one of the fambily. 
 The boys, too, s all thataway 
 Want you jes to come and stay ; 
 Price, and Chape, and Mandaville, 
 Poke, Chasteen, and "Catfish Bill" 
 Poke s the runt of all the rest, 
 But he s jes the beatin est 
 Little schemer, fer fourteen, 
 Anybody ever seen ! 
 "Like his namesake," old man claims, 
 "Jeems K. Poke, the first o names ! 
 Full o tricks and jokes and you 
 Never know what Poke s go do !" 
 Genius, too, that-air boy is, 
 With them awk ard hands o his : 
 Gits this blame pokeberry-juice, 
 Er some stuff, fer ink and goose- 
 Quill pen-p ints: And then he ll draw 
 Dogdest pictures yevver saw ! 
 Jes make deers and eagles good 
 As a writin teacher could ! 
 Then they s two twin boys they ve riz 
 Of old Coonrod Wigginses 
 At s deceastand glad of it, 
 Cause his widder s livin yit! 
 Course the boys is mostly jes 
 Why I go to Wigginses . 
 
 224 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Though Mclvincy, sometimes, she 
 
 Gits her slate and algebry 
 
 And jes sets there cipher n thue 
 
 Sums old Ray hisse f cain t do ! 
 
 Jes sets there, and tilts her chair 
 
 Forreds tel, pear-like, her hair 
 
 Jes spills in her lap and then 
 
 She jes dips it up again 
 
 With her hands, as white, I swan, 
 
 As the apern she s got on! 
 
 Talk o hospitality ! 
 
 Go to Wigginses with me 
 
 Overhet, or froze plum thue, 
 
 You ll find welcome waitin you : 
 
 Th ow out yer tobacker fore 
 
 You set foot acrost that floor, 
 
 "Got to eat whatever s set 
 
 Got to drink whatever s wet !" 
 
 Old man s sentimuns them s his 
 
 And means jes the best they is! 
 
 Then he lights his pipe ; and she, 
 
 The old lady, presen ly 
 
 She lights hern ; and Chape and Poke.- 
 
 I hain t got none, ner don t smoke, 
 
 (In the crick afore their door 
 
 Sort o so s at I d be shore 
 
 Drownded mine one night and says 
 
 "I won t smoke at Wigginses !") 
 
 Price he s mostly talkin bout 
 
 Politics, and "thieves turned out"- 
 
 225 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 What he s go to be, ef he 
 
 Ever "gits there" and "we ll see!" 
 
 Poke he lows they s blame few men 
 
 Go to hold their breath tel then ! 
 
 Then Melviney smiles, as she 
 
 Goes on with her algebry, 
 
 And the clouds clear, and the room s 
 
 Sweeter n crabapple-blooms ! 
 
 (That Melviney, she s got some 
 
 Most surprisin ways, i gum ! 
 
 Don t pear-like she ever says 
 
 Nothin , yit you ll listen jes 
 
 Like she was a-talkin , and 
 
 Half-way seem to understand, 
 
 But not quite, Poke does, I know, 
 
 Cause he good as told me so, 
 
 Poke s her f avo-rite ; and he 
 
 That is, confidentially 
 
 He s my favo-rite and I 
 
 Got my whurfore and my why!) 
 
 lg r -{9ffo i?3(? yrtt YJ[ intern ImA 
 I hain t never be n no hand 
 Much at talkin , understand, 
 But they s thoughts o mine at s jes 
 Jealous o them Wigginses ! 
 Gift o talkin s what they got, 
 Whuther they want to er not. 
 F r instunce, start the old man on 
 Huritin -scrapes, fore game was gone, 
 Way back in the Forties, when 
 Bears stold pigs right out the pen, 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Er went waltzin crost the farm 
 
 With a beehive on their arm ! 
 
 And sir, ping! the old man s gun 
 
 Has plumped over many a one, 
 
 Firin at him from afore 
 
 That-air very cabin-door! 
 
 Y es an d painters, prowlin bout, 
 
 Allus darkest nights. Lay out 
 
 Clost yer cattle. Great, big red 
 
 Eyes a-blazin in their head, 
 
 Glitter n long the .timber-line 
 
 Shine out some, and then un-skinc, 
 
 And shine back. Then, stiddy ! whizz I 
 
 N there yer Mr. Painter is 
 
 With a hole bored spang between 
 
 Them-air eyes! . . . Er start Chasteen, 
 
 Say, on blooded racin -stock, 
 
 Ef you want to hear him talk; 
 
 Er tobacker how to raise, 
 
 Store, and k-yore it, so s she pays. . . . 
 
 The old lady and she ll cote 
 
 Scriptur* tel she ll git yer vote ! 
 
 Prove to you at wrong is right, 
 
 Jes as plain as black is white : 
 
 Prove when you re asleep in bed 
 
 You re a-standin on yer head, 
 
 And yer train at s going West, 
 
 S goin East its level best; 
 
 And when bees dies, it s their wings 
 
 Wears out And a thousand things! 
 
 And the boys is "chips," you know, 
 
 "Off the old block" So I go 
 
 227 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 To the Wigginses , cause jes 
 Cause I like the Wigginses 
 Even ef Melviney she 
 Hardly pears to notice me ! 
 
 , . 5-io ifc mgiil fniii js nhrf 
 Rid to Chinkypin this week 
 Yisterd y. No snow to speak 
 Of, and didn t have no sleigh 
 Anyhow ; so, as I say, 
 I rid in and froze one ear 
 And both heels aud I don t keer ! 
 "Mother and the girls kin jes 
 Bother bout their Chris mases 
 Next time fer their sc vs, i jack!" 
 Thinks-says-I, a-startin back, 
 Whole durn meal-bag full of things 
 Wropped in paper-sacks, and strings 
 Liable to snap their holt 
 Jes at any little jolt! 
 That in front o me, and wind 
 With nicks in it, at jes skinned 
 Me alive ! I m here to say 
 Nine mile hossback thataway 
 Would a walked my log ! But, as 
 Somepin allus comes to pass, 
 As I topped old Guthrie s hill, 
 Saw a buggy, front the Still, 
 P inted home ards, and a thin 
 Little chap jes climbin in. 
 Six more minutes I were there 
 On the groun s ! And course it were- 
 03 I o "afooM Mo arlj tlO" 
 
 228 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 It were little Poke and he 
 Nearly fainted to see me! 
 "You be n in to Chinky, too ?" 
 "Yes; and go ride back with you," 
 I-says-I. He he pped me find 
 Room fer my things in behind 
 Stript my boss s reins down, and 
 Putt his mitt on the right hand 
 So s to lead "Pile in !" says he, 
 "But you ve struck pore company!" 
 Noticed he was pale looked sick, 
 Kind o like, and had a quick 
 Way o flickin them-air eyes 
 O his roun at didn t size 
 Up right with his usual style 
 S I, "You well?" He tried to smile, 
 But his chin shuck and tears come. 
 "I ve run Viney way from home I" 
 
 Don t know jes what all occurred 
 Next ten seconds Nary word, 
 But my heart jes drapt, stobbed thue, 
 And whirlt over and come to. 
 Wrenched a big quart-bottle from 
 That fool-boy! and cut my thumb 
 On his little fiste-teeth helt 
 Him snug in one arm, and felt 
 That-air little heart o his 
 Churn the blood o Wigginses 
 Into that old bead at spun 
 Roun her, spilt at Lexington ! 
 
 229 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 His k niptions, like enough, 
 He pped us both, though it was rough 
 Rough on him, and rougher on 
 Me when last his nerve was gone, 
 And he laid there still, his face 
 Fishin fer some hidin -place 
 Jes a leetle lower down 
 In my breast than he d yit f oun ! 
 Last I kind o soothed him, so s 
 He could talk. And what you s pose 
 Them-air revelations of 
 
 Poke s was? . . . He d be n writin love- 
 Letters to Melviney, and 
 Givin her to understand 
 They was from "a young man who 
 Loved her," and "the violet s blue 
 N sugar s sweet" and Lord knows what ! 
 Tel, peared-like, Melviney got 
 S intended in "the young 
 Man," Poke he says, at she brung 
 A answer onc t fer him to take, 
 Statin "she d die fer his sake," 
 And writ fifty x s "fer 
 Love-kisses fer him from her !" . . . 
 I was standin in the road 
 By the buggy, all I knowed 
 When Poke got that fur. "That s why," 
 Poke says, "I fessed up the lie 
 Had to cause I see," says he, 
 " Viney was in airnest she 
 Cried, too, when I told her. Then 
 She swore me, and smiled again, 
 
 230 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And got Pap and Mother to 
 
 Let me hitch and drive her thue 
 
 Into Chinkypin, to be 
 
 At Aunt Rindy s Chris mas-tree 
 
 That s to-night." Says I, "Poke durn 
 
 Your lyin soul! s that beau o hern 
 
 That she loves Does he live in 
 
 That hellhole o Chinkypin?" 
 
 "No," says Poke, "er Viney would 
 
 Went some other neighberhood." 
 
 "Who is the blame whelp ?" says I. 
 
 "Promised Viney, hope I d die 
 
 Ef I ever told !" says Poke, 
 
 Pittiful and jes heart-broke 
 
 " Sides that s why she left the place, 
 
 She cain t look him in the face 
 
 Now no more on earth ! she says." 
 
 And the child broke down and jes 
 
 Sobbed ! . . . Says I, "Poke, I p tend 
 
 T be your friend, and your Pap s friend, 
 
 And your Mother s friend, and all 
 
 The boys 1 friend, little, large and small 
 
 The zvhole fambily s friend and you 
 
 Know that means Melviney, too. 
 
 Now you hursh yer troublin ! I m 
 
 Go to he p friends ever time 
 
 On y in this case, you got 
 
 To he p me and, like as not, 
 
 I kin he p Melviney then, 
 
 And we ll have her home again. 
 
 And now, Poke, with your consent, 
 
 I m go go to that-air gent 
 
 231 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 She s in love with, and confer 
 With him on his views o her. 
 Blast him! give the man some show. 
 Who is he? I m go to know!" 
 Somepin struck the little chap 
 Funny, peared-like. Give a slap 
 On his leg laughed thue the dew 
 In his eyes, and says: "It s you!" 
 
 Yes, and cordin to the last 
 Love-letters of ours at passed 
 Thue his hands we was to be 
 Married Chris mas. "Gee-mun-nee / 
 Poke," says I, it s suddentyit 
 We kin make it! You re to git 
 Up to-morry, say, bout three 
 Tell your folks you re go with me: 
 We ll hitch up, and jes drive in 
 N take the town o Chinkypin !" 
 
 ffr> lirtte ,f>rr>hl iVtU\P. nmou -hrrA 
 
 126 Old Winters on the Farm 
 
 I HAVE jest about decided 
 It ud keep a town-boy hoppin 
 Per to work all winter, choppin 
 Per a old fireplace, like 7 did ! 
 Lawz! them old times wuz contrairy! 
 Blame backbone o winter, peared-like 
 Wouldn t break ! and I wuz skeerd-like 
 Clean on into Feb uary! 
 232 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Nothin ever made me madder 
 Than fer Pap to stomp in, layin 
 On a extra fore-stick, sayin 
 
 "Groun -hog s out and seed his shadder !" 
 
 127 The Twins 
 
 YVvV)- A \iuii <y\)\K irA-ul 
 
 ONE S the pictur of his Pa, 
 And the other of her Ma 
 Jes the bossest pair o babies at a mortal 
 
 ever saw ! 
 
 And we love em as the bees 
 Loves the blossoms on the trees, 
 A-ridin and a-rompin in the breeze ! 
 
 One s got her Mammy s eyes 
 
 Soft and blue as Apurl-skies 
 
 With the same sort of a smile f like Yes, and 
 
 mouth about her size, 
 Dimples, too, in cheek and chin, 
 At my lips jes wallers in, 
 A-goin to work, er gittin home ag in. 
 
 qj; r<:=ffoo*ttPFr}^or{} ! $:w \ hnA 
 And the other Well, they say 
 
 That he s got his Daddy s way 
 
 O bein ruther soberfied, er ruther extry gay,- 
 
 That he either cries his best, 
 
 Er he laughs his howlin est 
 
 Like all he lacked was buttons and a vest! 
 
 233 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Look at her! and look at him! 
 
 Talk about yer "Cheru-frtwt/" 
 
 Roll em up in dreams together, rosy arm and 
 
 chubby limb! 
 
 O we love em as the bees 
 Loves the blossoms on the trees, 
 A-ridin and a-rompin in the breeze! 
 
 128 John Alden and Pcrdlly 
 
 WE got up a Christmas-doin s 
 Las Christmas Eve- 
 Kind o dimonstration 
 At I railly believe 
 Give more satisfaction 
 Take it up and down 
 Than ary intertainment 
 Ever come to town! 
 
 Railly was a theater 
 
 That s what it was, 
 But, bein in the church, you know, 
 
 We had a "Santy Claus"- 
 So s to git the old folks 
 
 To patternize, you see, 
 And back the institootion up 
 
 Kind o morally. 
 
 School-teacher writ the thing 
 (Was a friend o mine) 
 
 Got it out o Longfeller s 
 Pome "Evangeline" 
 
 234 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Er somers bout the Purituns. 
 
 Anyway, the part 
 "John Alden" fell to me 
 
 And learnt it all by heart ! 
 
 Claircy was "Percilly" 
 
 (School-teacher lowed 
 Me and her could act them two 
 
 Best of all the crowd) 
 Then blame ef he didn t 
 
 Git her Pap, i jing! 
 To take the part o "Santy Claus" 
 
 To wind up the thing. 
 
 Law ! the fun o practisun ! 
 
 Was a week er two 
 Me and Claircy didn t have 
 
 Nothin else to do ! 
 Kep us jes a-meetin round, 
 
 Kind o here and there, 
 Ever night rehearsin -like, 
 
 And gaddin ever where! 
 
 Game was wo th the candle, though !- 
 
 Christmas Eve at last 
 Rolled around. And tendance jes 
 
 Couldn t been su passed! 
 Neighbers from the country 
 
 Come from Clay and Rush 
 Yes, and crost the county-line 
 
 Clean from Puckerbrush! 
 
 235 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Meetm -house jes trimbled 
 
 As "Old Santy" went 
 Round amongst the chiklern, 
 
 With their pepperment 
 And sassafrac and wintergreen 
 
 Candy, and "a ball 
 O popcorn," the preacher nounced, 
 
 "Free f er each and all !" 
 
 School-teacher suddently 
 
 Whispered in my ear, 
 "Guess I got you: Christmas-gift! 
 
 Christmas is here!" 
 I give him a gold pen, 
 
 And case to hold the thing. 
 And Claircy whispered "Christmas-gift! 
 
 And I give her a ring. 
 
 ; _ : T/- : f) o + fvto. V flJO/^ 
 
 "And now," says I, "jes watch me 
 
 "Christmas-gift," says I, 
 "I m a-goin to git one 
 
 Santy s comin by!" 
 Then I rech and grabbed him : 
 
 And, as you ll infer, 
 Course I got the old man s, 
 
 And he gimme her! 
 
 236 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Some Scattering Remarks of 
 Bub s 
 
 WUNST I tooked our pepper-box lid 
 An cut little pie-dough biscuits, I did, 
 An cooked em on our stove one day 
 When our hired girl she said I may. 
 
 Honey s the goodest thing Oo-ooh! 
 And blackburry-pies is goodest, too ! 
 But wite hot biscuits, ist soakin -wet 
 Wiv tree-mulassus, is goodest yet! 
 
 Miss Maimie she s my Ma s friend, an* 
 She s purtiest girl in all the Ian ! 
 An sweetest smile an voice an face 
 An* eyes ist looks like p serves tas e I 
 
 I ruther go to the Circus-show; 
 But, cause my parunts told me so, 
 I ruther go to the Sund y-school, 
 Cause there I learn the goldun rule. 
 
 Say, Pa, what is the goldun rule 
 At s allus at the Sund y-school? 
 
 237 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 jjo The Rivals; or the Showman s 
 Ruse 
 
 A Tragi-Comedy, in One Act 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED 
 
 BILLY MILLER ) HM. r-- i 
 
 The Rivals 
 JOHNNY WILLIAMS ) 
 
 TOMMY WELLS Conspirator 
 
 TIME Noon. SCENE Country Town Rear view of the 
 Miller Mansion, showing Barn, with practical loft- 
 window opening on alley-way, with colored-crayon 
 poster beneath, announcing: "BILLY MILLER S Big 
 Show and Monstur Circus and Equareum ! A shour- 
 bath fer Each and All fer 20 pins. This Afternoon! 
 Don t fer git the Date!" Enter TOMMY WELLS and 
 JOHNNY WILLIAMS, who gaze a while at poster, TOMMY 
 secretly smiling and winking at BILLY MILLER, con 
 cealed at loft-window above. 
 
 or Q-g v.m\vn I 
 
 TOMMY [to JOHNNY] 
 
 Guess at Billy hain t got back, 
 Can t see nothin through the crack 
 Can t hear nothin needier No ! 
 . . . Thinks he s got the dandy show, 
 Don t he? 
 
 JOHNNY [scornfully] 
 
 Course! but what / care? 
 He hain t got no show in there ! 
 What s he got in there but that 
 Old hen, cooped up with a cat 
 238 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An a turkle, an that thing 
 At he calls his "circus-ring"? 
 "What a circus-ring!" I d quit! 
 Bet mine s twic t as big as it! 
 
 YVIVIHoT. 
 
 TOMMY 
 
 Yes, but you got no machine 
 
 Wat you bathe with, painted green,. 
 
 With a string to work it, guess ! 
 
 m 1 l f zlfUfb-sd 9m no nv/oCl 
 JOHNNY [contemptuously] 
 
 Folks don t bathe in circuses! 
 
 Ladies comes to mine, you bet ! 
 
 1 got seats where girls can set; 
 
 An a dressin -room, an all, 
 
 Fixed up in my pony s stall 
 
 Yes, an I got carpet, too, 
 
 Fer the tumblers, and a blue 
 
 Center-pole ! 
 
 tewi sin fcMla jVJoi, wl *o VA 
 TOMMY 
 
 Well, Billy, he s 
 Got a tight-rope an trapeze, 
 An a hoop at he jumps through 
 
 TJ A C. 4.\ 
 
 Head-first! 
 
 JOHNNY 
 
 Well, what s that to do 
 Lightin on a pile o hay? 
 
 Hain t no actin thataway ! 
 iVi , M n \ T ^ v.Tii3 ytVH] 
 
 TOMMY 
 
 Don t care what you say, he draws 
 Bigger crowds than you do, cause 
 
 239 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Sence he started up, I know 
 All the fellers says his show 
 Is the best-un ! 
 
 JOHNNY 
 
 Yes, an he 
 
 Better not tell things on me! 
 His old circus hain t no good ! 
 Cause he s got the neighborhood 
 Down on me he thinks at I m 
 Coin* to stand it all the time ; 
 Thinks ist cause my Pa don t low 
 Me to fight, he s got me now, 
 An* can say I lie, an call 
 Me ist anything at all ! 
 Billy Miller thinks I am 
 Feard to say at he says "dam" 
 Yes, and worser ones ! and I m 
 Coin to tell his folks sometime! 
 
 An* ef he don t shet his head 
 
 --YMI/.O L 
 I ll tell worse an that he said 
 
 When he fighted Willie King 
 An got licked like ever thing ! 
 Billy Miller better shin 
 Down his Daddy s lane ag in, 
 Like a cowardy-calf, an climb 
 In fer home another time! 
 Better* 
 
 [Here BILLY leaps down from the loft upon his unsus 
 pecting victim; and two minutes later, JOHNNY, with the 
 half of a straw hat, a bleeding nose, and a straight rent 
 across one trousers-knee, makes his inglorious exit.] 
 240 
 
ARMAZINDY 
 
 Armazindy 
 
 A RMAZINDY; fambily name 
 \ Ballenger, you ll find the same, 
 As her daddy answered it, 
 In the old War-rickords yit, 
 And, like him, she s airnt the good 
 Will o all the neighberhood. 
 Name ain t down in History, 
 But, i jucks! it ort to be! 
 
 Folks is got respec fer her 
 Armazindy Ballenger! 
 Specially the ones at knows 
 Fac s o how her story goes 
 From the start: Her father blowed 
 Up eternally furloughed 
 When the old "Sultana" bu st, 
 And sich men wuz needed wusst. 
 Armazindy, bout fourteen- 
 Year-old then and thin and lean 
 As a killdee, but my la! 
 Blamedest nerve you ever saw ! 
 The girl s mother d allus be n 
 Sickly wuz consumpted when 
 Word came bout her husband. So 
 Folks perdicted she d soon go 
 
 241 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 (Kind o grief 7 understand, 
 Losin my companion, and 
 Still a widower and still 
 Hinted at, like neighbers will!) 
 So, app inted, as folks said, 
 Ballenger a-bein* dead, 
 Widder, peared-like, gradjully, 
 Jes grieved after him tel she 
 Died, nex Aprile wuz a year, 
 And, in Armazindy s keer 
 Leavin the two twins, as well 
 As her pore old miz able 
 Old-maid aunty at had be n 
 Struck with palsy, and wuz then 
 Jes a he pless charge on her 
 Armazindy Ballenger. 
 
 Jevver watch a primrose bout 
 Minute fore it blossoms out 
 Kind o loosen-like, and blow 
 Up its muscles, don t you know, 
 And, all suddent, bu st and bloon? 
 Out life-size? Well, I persume 
 At s the only measure I 
 Kin size Armazindy by! 
 Jes a child, one minute, nex , 
 Woman-grown, in all respec s 
 And intents and purposuz 
 At s what Armazindy wuz! 
 
 Jes a child, I tell ye ! Yit 
 She made things git up and git 
 
 242 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Round that little farm o hern I 
 Shouldered all the whole concern ; 
 Feed the stock, and milk the cows 
 Run the farm and run the house! 
 Only thing she didn t do 
 Wuz to plow and harvest too 
 But the house and childern took 
 Lots o keer and had to look 
 After her old fittined 
 Grand-aunt. Lord ! ye could a* cried ? 
 Seein Armazindy smile, 
 Peared-like, sweeter all the while ! 
 And I ve heerd her laugh and say : 
 "Jes afore Pap marched away, 
 He says I depend on you, 
 Armazindy, come what may 
 You must be a Soldier, too ! " 
 
 Neighbers, from the fust, ud come 
 
 And she d let em help her some, 
 
 "Thanky, ma am !" and "Thanky, sir !" 
 
 But no charity fer her! 
 
 "She could raise the means to pay 
 
 Fer her farm-hands ever day 
 
 Sich wuz needed!" And she could 
 
 In cash-money jes as good 
 
 As farm produc s ever brung 
 
 Their perducer, old er young ! 
 
 So folks humored her and smiled, 
 
 And at last wuz rickonciled 
 
 Fef to let her have her own 
 
 Way about it. But a-goin 
 
 243 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Past to town, they d stop and see 
 "Armazindy s fambily," 
 As they d allus laugh and say, 
 And look sorry right away, 
 Thinkin of her Pap, and how 
 He d indorse his "Soldier" now! 
 
 Course she couldn t never be 
 
 Much in young-folks company 
 
 Plenty of in-vites to go, 
 
 But das t leave the house, you know 
 
 Less n Sund ys sometimes, when 
 
 Some old Granny d come and ten 
 
 Things, while Armazindy has 
 
 Got away fer Church er "Class." 
 
 Most the youngsters liked her and 
 
 Twuzn t hard to understand, 
 
 Fer, by time she wuz sixteen, 
 
 Purtier girl you never seen 
 
 Ceptin she lacked .schoolin , ner 
 
 Couldn t rag out stylisher 
 
 Like some neighber-girls, ner thumb 
 
 On their blame melodium, 
 
 Whilse their pore old mothers sloshed 
 
 Round the old back-porch and washed 
 
 Their clothes fer em rubbed and scrubbed 
 
 Fer girls d ort to jes be n clubbed ! 
 
 And jes sich a girl wuz Jule 
 Reddinhouse. She d be n to school 
 At New Thessaly, i gum ! 
 Fool before, but that he pped some 
 
 244 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Stablished-like more confidence 
 At she never had no sense. 
 But she wuz a cunnin , sly, 
 Meek and lowly sort o lie, 
 At men-folks like me and you 
 B lieves jes cause we ortn t to. 
 Jes as purty as a snake, 
 And as pizen mercy sake ! 
 Well, about them times it wuz, 
 Young Sol Stephens th ashed f er us r , 
 And we sent him over to 
 Armazindy s place to do 
 Her work f er her. And-sir ! Well- 
 Mighty little else to tell, 
 Sol he fell in love with her 
 Armazindy Ballenger! 
 
 Bless ye! LI of all the love 
 At I ve ever yit knowed of, 
 That-air case o theirn beat all ! 
 W y, she worshiped him ! And Sol, 
 Peared-like could a kissed the sod 
 (Sayin is) where that girl trod! 
 Went to town, she did, and bought 
 Lot o things at neighbers thought 
 Mighty strange fer her to buy, 
 Raal chintz dress-goods and way high !- 
 Cut long in the skyrt, also 
 Gaiter-pair o shoes, you know; 
 And lace collar ; yes, and fine 
 Stylish hat, with ivy-vine 
 And red ribbons, and these- ere 
 Artificial flowers and queer 
 
 245 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Little beads and spangles, and 
 Oysturch-f eathers round the band ! 
 Wore em, Sund ys, fer a while 
 Kind o went to Church in style, 
 Sol and Armazindy ! Tel 
 It was noised round purty well 
 They wuz promised. And they wuz 
 Sich news travels well it does ! 
 Pity at that did! Fer jes 
 That-air fac and nothin less 
 Must a putt it in the mind 
 O Jule Reddinhouse to find 
 Out some dratted way to hatch 
 Out some plan to break the match 
 Cause she done it ! Howl they s nonr- 
 Knows adzac ly what she done ; 
 Some claims she writ letters to 
 Sol s folks, up nigh Pleasant View 
 Somers and described, you see, 
 "Armazindy s fambily" 
 Hintin "ef Sol married her, 
 He d jes be pervidin fer 
 Them-air twins o hern, and old 
 Palsied aunt at couldn t hold 
 Spoon to mouth, and layin near 
 Bedrid on to eighteen year, 
 And still likely, pearantly, 
 To live out the century !" 
 Well whatever plan Jule laid 
 Out to reach the p int she made, 
 It wuz desper t And she won, 
 Finully, by marryun 
 
 246 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Sol herse f e-lopin , too, 
 With him, like she had to do, 
 Cause her folks ud allus swore 
 "Jule should never marry porel" 
 
 This-here part the story I 
 
 Allus haf to hurry by, 
 
 Way at Armazindy jes 
 
 Drapped back in her linsey dress, 
 
 And grabbed holt her loom, and shet 
 
 Her jaws square. And ef she fret 
 
 Any bout it never peared 
 
 Sign at neighbers seed er heerd; 
 
 Most folks liked her all the more 
 
 I know I did certain-shore ! 
 
 (Course I d knowed her Pap, and what 
 
 Stock she come of. Yes, and thought, 
 
 And think yit, no man on earth 
 
 S worth as much as that girl s worth!) 
 
 As fer Jule and Sol, they had 
 
 Their sheer ! less o good than bad ! 
 
 Her folks let her go. They said, 
 
 "Spite o them she d made her bed 
 
 And must sleep in it !" But she, 
 
 Peared-like, didn t sleep so free 
 
 As she ust to ner so late, 
 
 Ner so fine, I m here to state ! 
 
 Sol wuz pore, of course, and she 
 
 Wuzn t ust to poverty 
 
 Ner she didn t pear to jes 
 
 Filiate with lonesomeness, 
 
 247 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Cause Sol he wuz off and out 
 With his th asher nigh about 
 Half the time ; er, season done, 
 He d be off mi-anderun 
 Round the country, here and there, 
 Swoppin hosses. Well, that-air 
 Kind o livin didn t suit 
 Jule a bit ! and then, to boot, 
 She had now the keer o two 
 Her own childern and to do 
 Her own work and cookin yes, 
 And sometimes fer hands, I guess, 
 Well as fambily of her own. 
 Cut her pride clean to the bone ! 
 So how could the whole thing end? 
 She set down, one night, and penned 
 A short note, like at she sewed 
 On the childern s blanket blowed 
 Out the candle pulled the door 
 To close after her and, shore- 
 Footed as a cat is, dumb 
 In a rigg there and left home, 
 With a man a-drivin who 
 "Loved her ever fond and true," 
 As her note went on to say, 
 When Sol read the thing next day. 
 Y j-HA 02 *i9fi -ot i?fi si f? s A 
 
 Raaly didn t pear to be 
 Extry waste o sympathy 
 Over Sol pore feller! Yit, 
 Sake o them-air little bit 
 
 248 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 O two orphants as you might 
 Call em then, by law and right, 
 Sol s old friends wuz sorry, and 
 Tried to hold him out their hand 
 Same as allus : But he d flinch 
 Tel, jes peared-like, inch by inch, 
 He let all holts go ; and so 
 Took to drinkin , don t you know, 
 Tel, to make a long tale short, 
 He wuz fuller than he ort 
 To a be n, at work one day 
 Bout his th asher, and give way, 
 Kind o like and fell and ketched 
 In the beltin . 
 
 . . . Rid and fetched 
 Armazindy to him. He 
 Begged me to. But time at she 
 Reached his side, he smiled and tried 
 To speak Couldn t. So he died. . . 
 Hands all turned and left her there 
 And went somers else jow^where. 
 Last, she called us back in clear 
 Voice as man ll ever hear 
 Clear and stiddy, peared to me, 
 As her old Pap s ust to be. 
 Give us orders what to do 
 Bout the body he pped us, too. 
 So it wuz, Sol Stephens passed 
 In Armazindy s hands at last. 
 More n that, she claimed at she 
 Had consent from him to be 
 
 249 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Mother to his childern now 
 Thout no parents anyhow. 
 
 Yes-sir! and she s got em, too, 
 Folks saw nothin else ud do 
 So they let her have her way 
 Like she s doin yit to-day ! 
 Years now, I ve be n coaxin her 
 Armazindy Ballenger 
 To in-large her fambily 
 Jes one more by takin me 
 Which I m feared she never will, 
 Though I m lectioneerin still. 
 
 132 Writln Back to the Home-Folks 
 
 MY dear old friends It jes beats all, 
 The way you write a letter 
 So s ever last line beats the first, 
 
 And ever next-un s better ! 
 W y ever fool-thing you putt down 
 
 You make so mterest m , 
 A feller, readin of em all, 
 Can t tell which is the best-un. 
 
 It s all so comfortin and good, 
 Pears-like I almost hear ye 
 
 And git more sociabler, you know, 
 And hitch my cheer up near ye 
 250 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And jes smile on ye like the sun 
 Acrosst the whole per-rairies 
 
 In Aprile when the thaw s begun 
 And country couples marries. 
 
 It s all so good-old-fashioned like 
 
 To talk jes like we re thinkin , 
 Without no hidin back o fans 
 
 And giggle-un and winkin , 
 Ner sizin how each other s dressed 
 
 Like some is allus doin 
 "Is Marthy Ellen s basque be n turned 
 
 Er shore-enough a new-un !" 
 
 Er "ef Steve s city-friend hain t jes 
 
 A leetle kind o sort o " 
 Er "wears them-air blame* eye-glasses 
 
 Jes cause he hadn t ort to?" 
 And so straight on, dad-libitum, 
 
 Tel all of us feels, someway, 
 Jes like our "comp ny" wuz the best 
 
 When we git up to come way ! 
 
 That s why I like old friends like you ? - 
 
 Jes cause you re so abidin . 
 Ef I was built to live "jer kteps," 
 
 My principul residin 
 Would be amongst the folks at kep 
 
 Me allus thinkin of em 
 And sort o eechin all the time 
 
 To tell em how I love em. 
 
 251 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Sich folks, you know, I jes love so 
 
 I wouldn t live without em, 
 Er couldn t even drap asleep 
 
 But what I dreamp* about em, 
 And ef we minded God, I guess 
 
 We d all love one another 
 Jes like one famb ly, me and Pap 
 
 And Madaline and Mother. 
 
 I 33 The Muskingum Valley 
 
 THE Muskingum Valley How longin the gaze 
 A feller throws back on its long summer days, 
 When the smiles of its blossoms and my smiles wuz one- 
 And-the-same, from the rise to the set o the sun : 
 Wher the hills sloped as soft as the dawn down to noon, 
 And the river run by like an old fiddle-tune, 
 And the hours glided past as the bubbles ud glide, 
 All so loaferin -like, long the path o the tide. 
 
 In the Muskingum Valley it peared like the skies 
 Looked lovin on me as my own mother s eyes, 
 While the laughin -sad song of the stream seemed to be 
 Like a lullaby angels was wastin on me 
 Tel, swimmin the air, like the gossamer s thread, 
 Twixt the blue underneath and the blue overhead, 
 My thoughts went astray in that so-to-speak realm 
 Wher Sleep bared her breast as a piller fer them. 
 252 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 In the Muskingum Valley, though far, far a-way, 
 I know that the winter is bleak there to-day 
 No bloom ner perfume on the brambles er trees 
 Wher the buds used to bloom, now the icicles freeze. 
 That the grass is all hid long the side of the road 
 Wher the deep snow has drifted and shifted and blowed 
 And I feel in my life the same changes is there, 
 The frost in my heart, and the snow in my hair. 
 
 But, Muskingum Valley ! my memory sees 
 
 Not the white on the ground, but the green in the trees 
 
 Not the froze -over gorge, but the current, as clear 
 
 And warm as the drop that has jes trickled here; 
 
 Not the choked-up ravine, and the hills topped with snow, 
 
 But the grass and the blossoms I knowed long ago 
 
 When my little bare feet wundered down wher the stream 
 
 In the Muskingum Valley flowed on like a dream. 
 
 134 "Plow Did You Rest, Last 
 Night?" 
 
 "T TOW did you rest, last night?" 
 
 A -L I ve heard my gran pap say 
 Them words a thousand times that s right 
 
 Jes them words thataway! 
 As punctchul-like as morning dast 
 
 To ever heave in sight 
 Gran pap ud allus haf to ast 
 
 "How did you rest, last night?" 
 
 253 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Us young-uns used to grin, 
 
 At breakfast, on the sly, 
 And mock the wobble of his chin . -,._,.-, 
 
 And eyebrows helt so high 
 And kind : "How did you rest, last night? 
 
 We d mumble and let on 
 Our voices trimbled, and our sight 
 
 Was dim, and hearin gone. 
 
 Bad as I used to be, 
 
 All I m a-wantin is 
 As puore and ca m a sleep fer me 
 
 And sweet a sleep as his ! 
 And so I pray, on Jedgmcnt Day 
 
 To wake, and with its light 
 Sec his face dawn, and hear him say 
 
 "How did you rest, last night?" 
 
 T 35 Up an ^ Doivn Old Brandy wine 
 
 UP and down old Brandywine, 
 In the days at s past and gone 
 With a dad-burn hook-and-line 
 And a saplin -pole i swawn ! 
 
 I ve had more fun, to the square 
 Inch, than ever awvwhere ! 
 Heaven to come can t discount mine, 
 U? and down old Brandywine ! 
 
 254 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Hain t no sense in wishin yit 
 
 Wisht to goodness I could jes 
 
 "Gee" the blame world round and git 
 
 Back to that old happiness ! 
 
 Kind o drive back in the shade 
 "The old Covered Bridge" there laid 
 Crosst the crick, and sort o soak 
 My soul over, hub and spoke 1 
 
 Honest, now ! it hain t no dream 
 At I m wantin , but the fac s 
 As they wuz ; the same old stream, 
 And the same old times, i jacks! 
 Gimme back my bare feet and 
 Stonebruise too ! And scratched and tanned !- 
 And let hottest dog-days shine 
 Up and down old Brandywine ! 
 
 In and on betwixt the trees 
 
 Long the banks, pour down yer noon, 
 Kind o curdled with the breeze 
 And the yallerhammer s tune ; 
 
 And the smokin , chokin dust 
 
 O the turnpike at its wusst 
 
 Saturd ys, say, when it seems 
 
 Road s jes jammed with country teams! 
 
 Whilse the old town, fur away 
 
 Crosst the hazy pastur -land, 
 Dozed-like in the heat o day 
 
 Peaceful* as a hired hand. 
 
 255 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Jolt the gravel th ough the floor 
 O the old bridge ! grind and roar 
 With yer blame percession-line 
 Up and down old Brandywine ! 
 
 Souse me and my new straw-hat 
 
 Off the foot-log ! what / care? 
 Fist shoved in the crown o that 
 
 Like the old Clown ust to wear. 
 Wouldn t swop it fer a old 
 Gin-u-wine raal crown o gold ! 
 Keep yer King ef you ll gimme 
 Jes the boy I ust to be ! 
 
 Spill my fishin -worms ! er steal 
 
 My best "goggle-eye !" but you 
 Can t lay hands on joys I feel 
 Nibblin like they ust to do ! 
 So, in memory, to-day 
 Same old ripple lips away 
 At my cork and saggin line, 
 Up and down old Brandywine! 
 
 There the logs is, round the hill, 
 
 Where "Old Irvin" ust to lift 
 Out sunfish from daylight till 
 
 Dewfall fore he d leave "The Drift" 
 And give us a chance and then 
 Kind o fish back home again, 
 Ketchin em jes left and right 
 Where ivc hadn t got "a bite" ! 
 
 256 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Er, way windin out and in, 
 
 Old path th ough the iurnweeds 
 And dog-fennel to yer chin 
 
 Then come suddent, th ough the reeds 
 And cattails, smack into where 
 Them-air woods-hogs list to scare 
 Us clean crosst the County-line, 
 Up and down old Brandy wine ! 
 
 But the dim roar o the dam 
 
 It ud coax us furder still 
 To rds the old race, slow and ca m, 
 Slidin on to Huston s mill 
 
 Where, I spect, "the Freeport crowd" 
 Never warmed to us er lowed 
 We wuz quite so overly 
 Welcome as we aimed to be. 
 
 Still it peared-like ever thing 
 
 Fur away from home as there 
 Had more relish-like, i jing! 
 Fish in stream, er bird in air ! 
 
 O them rich old bottom-lands, 
 
 Past where Cowden s Schoolhouse stands ! 
 
 Wbrtcrmelons master-mine! 
 
 Up and down old Brandywine ! 
 
 TorJ-teriv rn f ! j,Tn - !>-?>! ?;r?A 
 And sich pop-paws ! Lumps o raw 
 
 Gold and green, jes oozy th ough 
 With ripe yaller like you ve saw 
 Custard-pie with no crust to : 
 
 ,!ood:>a Is ^ a !>iy, r rtrf 1 vn-T nl 
 
 257 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And jes gorges o wild plums, 
 Till a feller d suck his thumbs 
 Clean up to his elbows! My! 
 Me some more cr lem me die! 
 
 Up and down old Brandywine ! 
 
 Stripe me with pokeberry-juice! 
 Flick me with a pizen-vine 
 
 And yell "Yip!" and lem me loose! 
 Old now as I then wuz young, 
 F I could sing as I have sung, 
 Song ud surety ring dee-vine 
 Up and down old Brandywine! 
 
 136 My Henry 
 
 HE S jes a great, big, awk ard, hulkin 
 Feller, humped, and sort o sulkin 
 Like, and ruther still-appearin 
 Kind-as-ef he wuzn t keerin 
 
 Whether school helt out er not 
 That s my Henry, to a dot ! 
 
 Allus kind o liked him whether 
 Childern, er growed-up together! 
 Fifteen year ago and better, 
 Fore he ever knowed a letter, 
 Run acrosst the little fool 
 In my Primer-class at school. 
 
 258 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 When the Teacher wuzn t lookin 
 He d be th owin wads ; er crookin 
 Pins ; er sprinklin pepper, more n 
 Likely, on the stove ; er borin 
 
 Gimlet-holes up thue his desk 
 Nothin that boy wouldn t reskl 
 
 But, somehow, as I was goin 
 On to say, he seemed so knowin , 
 Other ways, and cute and cunnin 
 Allus wuz a notion runnin 
 
 Thue my giddy, fool-head he 
 
 Jes had be n cut out f er me ! 
 
 Don t go much on prophesyin 
 But last night whilse I wuz fryin 
 Supper, with that man a-pitchin 
 Little Marthy round the kitchen, 
 
 Think-says-I, "Them baby s eyes 
 
 Is my Henry s, jes p cise!" 
 
 137 When Lide Married Him 
 
 WHEN Lide married him w y, she had to jes dee-fy 
 The whole popilation ! But she never bat an eye ! 
 Her parents begged, and threatened she must give him up 
 
 that he 
 
 Wuz jes "a common drunkard!" And he wuz, appear- 
 antly. 
 
 Swore they d chase him off the place 
 Ef he ever showed his face 
 
 259 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Long after she d eloped with him and married him fer 
 
 shore ! 
 When Lide married him, it wuz "Katy, bar the door!" 
 
 When Lide married him Well! she had to go and be 
 
 A hired girl in town somewheres while he tromped round 
 
 to see 
 What he could git that he could do, you might say, jes 
 
 sawed wood 
 From door to door ! that s what he done cause that wuz 
 
 best he could ! 
 
 And the strangest thing, i jing! 
 Wuz, he didn t drink a thing, 
 
 But jes got down to bizness, like he someway wanted to, 
 When Lide married him, like they warned her not to do ! 
 
 When Lide married him er, ruther had be n married 
 A little up ards of a year some feller come and carried 
 That hired girl away with him a ruther stylish feller 
 In a bran-new green spring-wagon, with the wheels striped 
 
 red and yeller : 
 
 And he whispered, as they driv 
 To rds the country, "Now we ll live! f - 
 And somepin else she laughed to hear, though both her 
 
 eyes wuz dim, 
 Bout "trustin Love and Heav n above, sence Lide married 
 
 vsV Jfirfj 
 
 : ffOfmrKO &" V>t *fjYv 
 .yltmj 
 
 260 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 138 "Ringworm Frank" 
 
 JEST Frank Reed s his real name though 
 Boys all calls him "Ringworm Frank," 
 Cause he allus runs round so. 
 No man can t tell where to bank 
 Frank ll be, 
 Next you see 
 
 Er hear of him ! Drat his melts ! 
 That man s allus somers else! 
 
 We re old pards. But Frank he jest 
 
 Can t stay still ! Wuz frosper n here, 
 But lit out on furder West 
 Somers on a ranch, last year : 
 Never heard 
 Nary a word 
 
 How he liked it, tel to-day, 
 Got this card, reads thisaway : 
 
 "Dad-burn climate out here makes 
 
 Me homesick all Winter long, 
 And when Spring-time comes, it takes 
 Two pee-wees to sing one song, 
 One sing pee 
 And the other one wee! 
 Stay right where you air, old pard. 
 Wisht 7 wuz this postal card !" 
 
 261 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 139 The Youthful Patriot 
 
 OWHAT did the little boy do 
 At nobody wanted him to ? 
 Didn t do nothin but romp an run, 
 An whoop an holler an bang his gun 
 An bu st fire-crackers, an ist have fun- 
 An at s all the little boy done ! 
 
 140 Folks at Lonesomeville 
 
 PORE-Folks lives at Lonesomeville 
 Lawzy ! but they re pore ! 
 Houses with no winders in, 
 
 And hardly any door : 
 Chimbly all tore down, and no 
 
 Smoke in that at all 
 Ist a stovepipe through a hole 
 In the kitchen wall ! 
 
 Pump at s got no handle on ; 
 
 And no woodshed And, wooh! 
 Mighty cold there, choppin wood, 
 
 Like pore-folks has to do ! 
 Winter-time, and snow and sleet 
 
 Ist fairly fit to kill ! 
 Hope to goodness Santy Claus 
 
 Goes to Lonesomeville! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 141 The Three Jolly Hunters 
 
 THERE were three jolly hunters; 
 And a-hunting they did go, 
 With a spaniel-dog, and a pointer-dog, 
 And a setter-dog also. 
 
 Looky there! 
 
 And they hunted and they hal-looed ; 
 
 And the first thing they did find 
 Was a dingling-dangling hornet s-nest 
 
 A-swinging in the wind. 
 
 Looky there! 
 
 And the first one said "What is it?" 
 Said the next, "We ll punch and see" : 
 
 And the next one said, a mile from there,, 
 "I wish we d let it be !" 
 
 Looky there! 
 
 And they hunted and they hal-looed ; 
 
 And the next thing they did raise 
 Was a bobbin bunny cottontail 
 
 That vanished from their gaze. 
 Looky there! 
 
 One said it was a hot baseball, 
 Zippt through the brambly thatch, 
 
 But the others said twas a note by post 
 Or a telegraph-despatch. 
 
 Looky there! 
 
 263 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 So they hunted and they hal-looed ; 
 
 And the next thing they did sight 
 Was a great big bulldog chasing them, 
 
 And a farmer, hollerin "Skite!" 
 Looky there! 
 
 And the first one said, "Hi-jinktum !" 
 And the next, "Hi-jinktum-jee!" 
 
 And the last one said, "Them very words 
 Had just occurred to me !" 
 
 Looky there! 
 
 142 A Few of the Bird-Family 
 
 THE Old Bob-white, and Chipbird; 
 The Flicker, and Chewink, 
 And little hopty-skip bird 
 Along the river-brink. 
 
 The Blackbird, and Snowbird, 
 The Chicken-hawk, and Crane; 
 
 The glossy old black Crow-bird, 
 And Buzzard down the lane. 
 
 The Yellowbird, and Redbird, 
 
 The Tomtit, and the Cat ; 
 The Thrush, and that Redhead-bird 
 
 The rest s all pickin at ! 
 
 264 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The Jay-bird, and the Bluebird, 
 The Sapsuck, and the Wren 
 
 The Cockadoodle-doo-bird, 
 And our old Settm -hen ! 
 
 143 The Toy Penny-Dog 
 
 MA put my Penny-Dog 
 Safe on the shelf, 
 And left no one home but him, 
 
 Me and myself ; 
 So I clumbed a big chair 
 
 I pushed to the wall 
 But the Toy Penny-Dog 
 
 Ain t there at all ! 
 I went back to Dolly 
 
 And she uz gone too, 
 And little Switch uz layin there ; 
 
 And Ma says "Boo!" 
 And there she wuz a-peepin 
 
 Through the front-room door : 
 And I ain t goin* to be a bad 
 
 Little girl no more! 
 Inv/of: riorfw v/mul 
 
 265 
 
HOME-FOLKS 
 
 144 Home-Folks 
 
 HOME-FOLKS ! Well, that-air name, to me, 
 Sounds jis the same as poetry 
 That is, ef poetry is jis 
 As sweet as I ve hearn tell it is I 
 
 ( rnhl jnd oinoji 3;to oa jlol bnA 
 Home-Folks they re jis the same as kin 
 
 All brung up, same as we have bin, 
 Without no overpowerin sense 
 Of their oncommon consequence I 
 
 They ve bin to school, but not to git 
 The habit fastened on em yit 
 So as to ever interfere 
 With other work at s waitin here: 
 
 Home-Folks has crops to plant and plow, 
 Er lives in town and keeps a cow ; 
 But whether country-jakes er town-, 
 They know when eggs is up er down ! 
 
 La ! can t you spot em when you meet 
 Em anywheres in field er street? 
 And can t you see their faces, bright 
 As circus-day, heave into sight? 
 
 266 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And can t you hear their "Howdy !" clear 
 As a brook s chuckle to the ear, 
 And allus find their laughin eyes 
 As fresh and clear as morning skies ? 
 
 !ii \& moilod arfr-te - o : < iDai ^aui.blouo^ 
 And can t you when the} Ve gone away 
 Jis feel em shakin hands, all day? 
 And feel, too, you ve bin higher raised 
 By sich a meetin ? God be praised ! 
 
 Oh, Home-Folks ! you re the best of all 
 At ranges this terreschul ball, 
 But, north er south, er east er west, 
 It s home is where you re at your best. 
 
 jh( ) O .o:; iUoy rftiw ,3/>}?/rbfile Viiy^2 1<> i noCT 
 It s home it s home your faces shine, 
 In-nunder your own fig and vine 
 Your fambly and your neighbers bout 
 Ye, and the latch-string hangin out 
 
 Home-Folks at home, I know o one 
 Old feller now at hain t got none. 
 Invite him he may hold back some 
 But you invite him, and he ll come. 
 
 Mister Hop-Toad 
 
 HOWDY, Mister Hop-Toad ! Glad to see you out ! 
 Bin a month o Sund ys sence I seen you hereabout. 
 Kind o bin a-layin in, from the frost and snow? 
 Good to see you out ag in, it s bin so long ago ! 
 
 267 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Plows like slicin cheese, and sod s loppin over even; 
 Loam s like gingerbread, and clod s softer n deceivin 
 Mister Hop-Toad, honest-true Spring-time don t you 
 
 love it? 
 You old rusty rascal you, at the bottom of it ! 
 
 Oh ! oh ! oh ! 
 I grabs up my old hoe ; 
 But I sees you, 
 And s l, "Ooh-ooh! 
 Howdy, Mister Hop-Toad! How-dee-do!" 
 
 Make yotirse f more comfo bler square round at your 
 
 ease 
 Don t set saggin slanchwise, with your nose below your 
 
 knees. 
 Swell that fat old throat o yourn and lemme see you 
 
 swaller ; 
 Straighten up and h ist your head ! You don t owe a 
 
 dollar ! 
 
 Hain t no mor gage on your land ner no taxes, nuther ; 
 You don t haf to work no roads, even ef you d ruther. 
 F I was you, and fixed like you, I railly wouldn t keer 
 To swop f er life and hop right in the presidential cheer ! 
 
 Oh ! oh ! oh ! 
 
 I hauls back my old hoe ; 
 But I sees you, 
 And s I, "Ooh-ooh ! 
 Howdy, Mister Hop-Toad ! How-dee-do !" 
 
 u 871 ,m 3fi luo HOY j^: c.l h 
 268 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Long about next Aprile, hoppin down the furry, 
 
 Won t you mind I ast you what peared to be the hurry ? 
 
 Won t you mind I hooked my hoe and hauled you back and 
 
 smiled ? 
 
 W y, bless you, Mister Hop-Toad, I love you like a child ! 
 S pose I d want to flict you any more n what you air? 
 S pose I think you got no rights cept the warts you wear ? 
 Hulk, sulk, and blink away, you old bloat-eyed rowdy! 
 Hain t you got a word to say? Won t you tell me 
 
 "Howdy"? 
 
 Oh ! oh ! oh ! 
 
 I swish round my old hoe ; 
 But I sees you, 
 And s I, "Ooh-ooh ! 
 Howdy, Mister Hop-Toad! How-dee-do!" 
 
 146 Uncle Sidney s Logic 
 
 PA wunst he scold an says to me. 
 "Don t play so much, but try 
 To study more, and nen you ll be 
 
 A great man, by an by." 
 Nen Uncle Sidney says, "You let 
 
 Him be a boy an play. 
 The greatest man on earth, I bet, 
 Ud trade with him to-day!" 
 
 269 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The Schoolboy s Favorite 
 
 Over the river and through the wood 
 
 Now Grandmother s cap I spy: 
 Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done? 
 
 Hurrah for the pumpkin-pie! 
 
 SCHOOL READER. 
 
 FER any boy at s little as me, 
 Er any little girl, 
 That-un s the goodest poetry-piece 
 
 In any book in the worl ! 
 An ef grown-peoples wuz little ag in 
 
 I bet they d say so, too, 
 Ef they d go see their ole Gran ma, 
 Like our Pa lets us do ! 
 
 Over the river an through the wood 
 
 Now Gran mother s cap I spy: 
 Hurrah fer the fun! Is the puddin done? 
 
 Hurrah fer the punkin-pie! 
 
 An* I ll tell you why at s the goodest piece : 
 
 Cause it s ist like we go 
 To our Gran ma s, a-visitun there, 
 
 When our Pa he says so; 
 An* Ma she fixes my little cape-coat 
 
 An little fuzz-cap; an Pa 
 He tucks me away an yells "Hoo-ray!" 
 An* whacks Ole Gray, an drives the sleigh 
 
 Fastest you ever saw ! 
 270 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Over the river an through the wood 
 
 Now Gran mother s cap I spy: 
 Hurrah fer the fun! Is the puddin done? 
 
 Hurrah fer the punkin-pic! 
 
 An* Pa ist snuggles me tween his knees 
 
 An I he p hold the lines, 
 An peek out over the buffalo-robe ; 
 An the wind is.t blows! an the snow ist snows !- 
 
 An the sun ist shines ! an shines ! 
 An th old horse tosses his head an coughs 
 
 Th frost back in our face. 
 An* F ruther go to my Gran ma s 
 
 Than any other place ! 
 
 Over the river an through the wood 
 
 Now Gran mothcr s cap I spy: 
 Hurrah fer the fun! Is the puddin done? 
 
 Hurrah fer the punkin-pie! 
 
 An all the peoples they is in town 
 
 Watches us whizzin past 
 To go a-visitun our Gran ma s, 
 
 Like we all went there last; 
 But they can t go, like ist our folks 
 
 An* Johnny an Lotty, an three 
 Er four neighber-childerns, an Rober-ut Volney 
 
 An Charley an Maggy an me! 
 
 Over the river an through the wood 
 
 Now Gran mothcr s cap I spy: 
 Hurrah fer the fun! Is the puddin done? 
 
 Hurrah fer the punkin-pic! 
 
 271 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 148 The Little Mock-Man 
 
 E Little Mock-man on the Stairs 
 JL He mocks the lady s horse at rares 
 
 At bi-sickles an things, 
 He mocks the mens at rides em, too ; 
 An* mocks the Movers, drivin through, 
 An* hollers "Here s the way you do 
 With them-air hitchin -strings !" 
 "Ho! ho!" he ll say, 
 Ole Settlers Day, 
 When they re all jogglin by, 
 "You look like this," 
 He ll say, an twis* 
 His mouth an squint his eye 
 An tend like he wuz beat the bass 
 
 Drum at both ends an toots and blares 
 Ole dinner-horn an* puffs his face 
 The Little Mock-man on the Stairs ! 
 
 The Little Mock-man on the Stairs 
 Mocks all the peoples all he cares 
 
 At passes up an down ! 
 He mocks the chickens round the door, 
 An mocks the girl at scrubs the floor, 
 An mocks the rich, an mocks the pore, 
 An* ever thing in town! 
 "Ho ! ho !" says he, 
 To you er me; 
 
 272 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An* ef we turns an looks, 
 He s all crosc-eyed 
 An mouth all wide 
 Like Giunts is, in books. 
 "Ho ! ho !" he yells, "look here at me" 
 
 An rolls his fat eyes roun an glares, 
 "You look like this!" he says, says he 
 The Little Mock-man on the Stairs! 
 
 The Little Mock 
 The Little Mock 
 The Little Mock-man on the Stairs, 
 
 He mocks the music-box: an clock, 
 An roller-sofy an the chairs; 
 He mocks his Pa an spec s he wears; 
 He mocks the man at picks the pears 
 An plums an peaches on the shares; 
 He mocks the monkeys an the bears 
 On picture-bills, an rips an tears 
 Em down, an mocks ist all he cares. 
 An EvEKbody EvER wheres! 
 
 149 Summer-Time and Winter-Time 
 
 IN the golden noon-shine, 
 Or in the pink of dawn; 
 In the silver moonshine, 
 Or when the moon is gone ; 
 
 273 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Open eyes, or drowsy lids, 
 Wake or most asleep, 
 
 I can hear the katydids, 
 "Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!" 
 
 Only in the winter-time 
 
 Do they ever stop, 
 In the chip-and-splinter-time, 
 
 When the backlogs pop, 
 Then it is, the kettle-lids, 
 
 While the sparkles leap, 
 Lisp like the katydids, 
 
 "Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!" 
 
 750 My Dancin -Days Is Over 
 
 WHAT is it in old fiddle-chimes at makes me ketch 
 my breath 
 And ripples up my backbone tel I m tickled most 
 
 to death ? 
 Kind o like that sweet- sick feelin , in the long sweep of 
 
 a swing, 
 The first you ever swung in, with yer first sweetheart, 
 
 i jing! 
 Yer first picnic ycr first ice-cream yer first o ever - 
 
 thing 
 At happened fore yer dancin -days wuz over ! 
 
 I never understood it and I s pose I never can, 
 But right in town here, yisterd y, I heerd a pore blind- 
 man 
 
 274 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 A-fiddlin old "Gray Eagle" And-sir\ I jes stopped 
 
 my load 
 O hay and listened at him yes, and watched the way he 
 
 "bow d," 
 And back I went, plum forty year , with boys and girls 
 
 I knowed 
 And loved, long fore my dancin -days wuz over! 
 
 At high noon in yer city, with yer blame Magnetic-Cars 
 A-hummin and a-screechin past and bands and G. 
 
 A. R. s 
 A-marchin and fire-ingines. All the noise, the whole 
 
 street through, 
 
 Wuz lost on me ! I only heard a whipperwill er two, 
 It peared-like, kind o callin crost the darkness and the 
 
 dew, 
 Them nights afore my dancin -days wuz over. 
 
 T uz Chused y-night at Wetherell s, er We n sd y-night at 
 
 Strawn s, 
 
 Er Fourth-o -July-night at uther Tomps s house er John s ! 
 With old Lew Church from Sugar Crick, with that old 
 
 fiddle he 
 Had sawed clean through the Army, from Atlanty to 
 
 the sea 
 And yit he d fetched her home ag in, so s he could play 
 
 fer me 
 Onc t more afore my dancin -days wuz over ! 
 
 The woods at s all be n cut away wuz growin same as 
 
 then ; 
 The youngsters all wuz boys ag in at s now all oldish 
 
 men; 
 
 275 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Ar.d all the girls at then wuz girls I saw em, one 
 
 and all, 
 As plain as then the middle-sized, the short-and-fat, and 
 
 tall 
 And peared-like, I danced "Tucker" fer em up and 
 
 down the wall 
 Jes like afore my dancin -days wuz over ! 
 
 The facts is, I wuz dazed so at I clean f ergot jes where 
 ( railly wuz, a-blockin streets, and still a-standin there : 
 I heard the />o-leece yellin , but my ears wuz kind o 
 
 blurred 
 My eyes, too, fer the odds o that, bekase I thought I 
 
 heard 
 My wife at s dead a-laughin -like, and jokin , word-fer- 
 
 word 
 Jes like afore her dancin -days wuz over. 
 
 151 "Home Ag iri 
 
 I 
 
 M a-feelin ruther sad, 
 Fer a father proud and glad 
 
 As 7 am my only child 
 Home, and all so rickonciled ! 
 Feel so strange-like, and don t know 
 What the mischief ails me so ! 
 Stid o bad, I ort to be 
 Feelin* good pertickerly 
 
 2 7 6 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Yes, and extry thankful, too, 
 Cause my nearest kith and kin, 
 My Elviry s schoolin s through, 
 And I got her home ag in 
 Home ag in with me! 
 
 Same as ef her mother d been 
 
 Livin . I have done my best 
 
 By the girl, and watchfulest; 
 
 Nussed her keerful as I could 
 
 From a baby, day and night, 
 
 Drawin on the neighberhood 
 
 And the women-folks as light 
 
 As needsessity ud low 
 
 Cept in "teethin ," onc t, and fight 
 
 Through black-measles. Don t know nov/ 
 
 How we ever saved the child! 
 
 Doc he d give her up, and said, 
 
 As I stood there by the bed 
 
 Sort o foolin with her hair 
 
 On the hot, wet pillar there, 
 
 "Wuz no use !" And at them-air 
 
 Very words she waked and smiled 
 
 Yes, and knowed me. And that s where 
 
 I broke down, and simply jes 
 
 Bellered like a boy I guess! 
 
 Women claim I did, but I 
 
 Allus helt I didn t cry 
 
 But wuz laughin , and I wuz, 
 
 Men don t crv like women does ! 
 
 277 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Well, right then and there I felt 
 T uz her mother s doin s, and, 
 Jes like to mys f, I knelt 
 Whisperin , "I understand." . . . 
 So I ve raised her, you might say, 
 Stric ly in the narrer way 
 At her mother walked therein 
 Not so quite religiously, 
 Yit still strivin -like to do 
 Ever thing a father could 
 Do he knowed the mother would 
 Ef she d lived And now all s through 
 And I got her home ag in 
 Home ag in with me! 
 
 And I been so lonesome, too, 
 Here o late, especially, 
 "Old Aunt Abigail," you know, 
 Ain t no company; and so 
 Jes the hired hand, you see 
 Jonas like a relative 
 More sence he come here to live 
 With us, nigh ten year ago. 
 Still he don t count much, you know, 
 In the way o company 
 Lonesome, peared-like, most as me 5 
 So, as 7 say, I been so 
 Special lonesome-like and blue, 
 With Elviry, like she s been, 
 Way so much, last two or three 
 Year But now she s home ag in 
 Home ag in with me ! 
 
 278 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Driv in fer her yisterday, 
 
 Me and Jonas gay and spry, 
 
 We jes* cut up, all the way! 
 
 Yes, and sung ! tel, blame it ! I 
 
 Keyed my voice up bout as high 
 
 As when days at I wuz young 
 
 "Buckwheat-notes" wuz all they sung. 
 
 Jonas bantered me, and greed 
 
 To sing one at town-folks sing 
 
 Down at Split Stump er High-Low 
 
 Some new "ballet," said he, at he d 
 
 Learnt about "The Grape-vine Swing." 
 
 And when he quit, / begun 
 
 To chune up my voice and run 
 
 Through the what s-called "scales" and "dc 
 
 Sol-me-fa s" I ust to know 
 
 Then let loose old favorite one, 
 
 "Hunters o Kentucky!" My! 
 
 Tel I thought the boy would die! 
 
 And we both laughed Yes, and still 
 
 Heerd more laughin , top the hill ; 
 
 Fer we d missed Elviry s train, 
 
 And she d lit out crost the fields, 
 
 Dewdrops dancin at her heels, 
 
 And cut up old Smoots s lane 
 
 So s to meet us. And there in 
 
 Shadder o the chinkypin, 
 
 With a danglin dogwood-bough 
 
 Bloomin bove her See her now ! 
 
 Sunshine sort o flickerin down 
 
 And a kind o laughin all 
 
 Round her new red parasol, 
 
 279 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Tryin to git at her! well like 
 / jumped out and showed em how * 
 Yes, and jes the place to strike 
 That-air mouth o hern as sweet 
 As the blossoms breshed her brow 
 Er sweet-williams round her feet 
 White and blushy, too, as she 
 "Howdied" up to Jonas, and 
 Jieuked her head, and waved her hand. 
 "Hey !" says I, as she bounced in 
 The spring-wagon, reachin back 
 To give me a lift, "whoop-ee!" 
 I-says-ee, "you re home ag in 
 Home ag in with me!" 
 
 Lord ! how wild she wuz, and glad, 
 Gittin home! and things she had 
 To inquire about, and talk 
 Plowin , plantin , and the stock 
 News o neighberhood ; and how 
 Wuz the Deem-girls doin now, 
 Sence that-air young chicken-hawk 
 They was "tamin " soared away 
 With their settin -hen, one day? 
 (Said she d got Mame s postal-card 
 Bout it, very day at she 
 Started home from Bethany.) 
 How wuz produce eggs, and lard ? 
 Er wuz stores still claimin "hard 
 Times," as usual? And, says she, 
 Trotibled-like, "How s Deedie say? 
 Sence pore child e-loped away 
 
 280 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And got back, and goin to ply 
 Per school-license by and by 
 And where s Lijy workin at? 
 And how s Aunt and Uncle Jake ? 
 How wuz Old Maje and the cat? 
 And wuz Marthy s baby fat 
 As his Humpty-Dumpty ma? 
 Sweetest thing she ever saw ! 
 Must run crost and see her, too, 
 Soon as she turned in and got 
 Supper fer us smokin -hot 
 And the dishes all wuz through. " 
 Sich a supper ! W y, I set 
 There and et, and et, and et ! 
 Jes et on, tel Jonas he 
 Pushed his chair back, laughed, and says, 
 "I could walk his log!" and we 
 All laughed then, tel Viry she 
 Lit the lamp and I give in ! 
 Riz and kissed her : "Heaven bless 
 You !" says I -"you re home ag in 
 Same old dimple in your chin, 
 Same white apern," I-says-ee, 
 "Same sweet girl, and good to see 
 As your mother ust to be, 
 And F got you home ag in 
 Home ag in with me !" 
 
 I turns then to go on by her 
 Through the door and see her eyes 
 Both wuz swimmin , and she tries 
 
 281 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 To say somepin can t and so 
 
 Grabs and hugs and lets me go. 
 
 Noticed Aunty d made a fire 
 
 In the settin -room and gone 
 
 Back where her p serves wuz on 
 
 Bilin in the kitchen. I 
 
 Went out on the porch and set, 
 
 Thinkin -like. And by and by 
 
 Heerd Elviry, soft and low, 
 
 At the organ, kind o go 
 
 A mi-anderin up and down 
 
 With her fingers mongst the keys 
 
 "Vacant Chair" and "Old Camp-Groun ." 
 
 Dusk was moist-like, with a breeze 
 
 Lazin round the locus -trees 
 
 Heerd the bosses champin , and 
 
 Jonas feedin , and the hogs 
 
 Yes, and katydids and frogs 
 
 And a tree-toad, somers. Heerd 
 
 Also whipper wills. My land! 
 
 All so mournful ever where 
 
 Them out here, and her in there, 
 
 Most like tendin services! 
 
 Anyway, I must a jes 
 
 Kind o drapped asleep, I guess; 
 
 Cause when Jonas must a passed 
 
 Me, a-comin in, I knowed 
 
 Nothin of it yit it seemed 
 
 Sort o like I kind o dreamed 
 
 Bout him, too, a-slippin in, 
 
 And a-watchin back to see 
 
 Ef I ivuz asleep, and then 
 
 282 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Passin in where Viry wuz ; 
 And where I declare it does 
 Tear to me I heerd him say, 
 Wild and glad and whisperin 
 Peared-like heerd him say, says-ee, 
 "Ah ! I got you home ag in 
 Home ag in with me !" 
 
 152 To "Uncle Remus" 
 
 WE love your dear old face and voice 
 We re all Miss Sally s Little Boys, 
 Climbin your knee, 
 In ecstasy, 
 
 Rejoicin in your Creeturs* joys 
 And trickery. 
 
 The Lord who made the day and night, 
 He made the Black man and the White; 
 
 So, in like view, 
 
 We hold it true 
 That He hain t got no favorite 
 
 Onless it s you. 
 
 j A Feel in the Chris mas- Air 
 
 T KEY S a kind o feel in the air, to me, 
 When the Chris mas-times sets in, 
 That s about as much of a mystery 
 As ever I ve run ag in ! 
 
 283 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Per instunce, now, whilse I gain in weight 
 
 And gineral health, I swear 
 They s a goneness somers I can t quite state 
 
 A kind o feel in the air. 
 
 They s a feel in the Chris mas-air goes right 
 
 To the spot where a man lives at! 
 It gives a feller a appetite 
 
 They ain t no doubt about that! 
 And yit they s somepin I don t know what 
 
 That follers me, here and there, 
 And ha nts and worries and spares me not 
 
 A kind o feel in the air ! 
 
 They s a feel, as I say, in the air that s jest 
 
 As blame-don sad as sweet! 
 In the same ra-sho as I feel the best 
 
 And am spryest on my feet, 
 They s allus a kind o sort of a ache 
 
 That I can t lo-cate no-where; 
 But it comes with Chris mas, and no mistake ! 
 
 A kind o feel in the air. 
 
 ifoovhl on Jo J mfirl >H IfuiT 
 Is it the racket the childern raise? 
 
 W y, no! God bless em! no! 
 Is it the eyes and the cheeks ablaze 
 
 Like my own wuz, long ago? 
 Is it the bleat o the whistle and beat 
 
 O the little toy-drum and blare 
 O the horn? No! no! it is jest the sweet 
 
 The sad-sweet feel in the air. 
 
 284 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 
 154 Cassander 
 
 "/CASSANDER! Cassander !" her mother s voice 
 
 \~J seems cle r 
 As ever, from the old back-porch, a-hollerin fer her 
 
 specially in airly Spring like May, two year ago 
 Last time she hollered fer her, and Cassander didn t hear 1 
 
 ^ob-^riH. t o iio.- B rlJiv/ ,tjd j=Bqe no bs^Ij^na I aelHY/ 
 Cassander wuz so chirpy-like and sociable and free, 
 And good to ever body, and wuz even good to me 
 
 Though I wuz jes a common well, a farm-hand, don t 
 
 you know, 
 
 A-workin on her father s place, as pore as pore could be! 
 jfr// str/, ^gn?^ }j;a~-.T>n i9i bv{,D\i b I 3?no^ beri b l u^J. 
 Her bein jes a only child, Cassander had her way 
 A good- eal more n other girls; and neighbers ust to say 
 
 She looked most like her Mother, but wuz turned most 
 
 like her Pap, 
 Except he had no use fer /own-folks then ner yit to-day! 
 
 I can t claim she incouraged me: She d let me drive her in 
 To town sometimes, on Saturd ys, and fetch her home 
 
 ag in, 
 Tel onc t she scused "Old Moll" and me, and some 
 
 blame city-chap, 
 He driv her home, two-forty style, in face o kith and kin. 
 
 She even tried to make him stay fer supper, but I low 
 He must a kind o spicioned some objections. Anyhow, 
 
 7OW YlSfl 137 ?,flfi Y tK 
 285 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Her mother callin at her, whilse her father stood and 
 
 shook 
 His fist, the town-chap turnt his team and made his 
 
 partin* bow. 
 vsio s ?.Vi\u>j ioff Tib6njB?.2fiD <: 
 
 "Cassander! You, Cassander!" hear her mother jes as 
 
 plain, 
 And see Cassander blushin like the peach-tree down the 
 
 lane, 
 Whilse I sneaked on apast her, with a sort o hang-dog 
 
 look, 
 
 A-feelin cheap as sorghum and as green as sugar-cane ! 
 ,.-!, .!,,,!-<.i K .Ib^nommo, ,: "^ , 
 (You see, I d skooted when she met her town-beau when, 
 
 in fact, 
 Ef I d had sense I d stayed fer her. But sense wuz what 
 
 I lacked ! 
 
 So I d cut home ahead o her, so s I could tell em what 
 Wuz keepin her. And you know how a jealous fool ll 
 act!) 
 
 I past her, I wuz sa} r in , but she never turnt her head ; 
 I swallered-like and cle red my th oat but that wuz all 
 
 I said; 
 And whilse I hoped fer some word back, it wuzn t what 
 
 I got. 
 That girl ll not stay stiller on the day she s layin dead ! 
 
 Well, that-air silence lasted! Ust to listen ever day 
 I d be at work and hear her mother callin thataway ; 
 
 I d sight Cassander, mayby, cuttin home acrost the blue 
 And drizzly fields; but nary answer nary word to say! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Putt in about two weeks o that two weeks o rain and 
 
 mud, 
 
 Er mostly so : I couldn t plow. The old crick like a flood : 
 And, lonesome as a borried dog, I d wade them old 
 
 woods through 
 The dogwood blossoms white as snow, and redbuds red 
 
 as blood. 
 /inUiv. y< . i\i vVvJuciSf t \K;oys I ujsUun ii> juvA\ tvA 
 
 Lnst time her mother called her sich a morning like as 
 
 now : 
 The robins and the bluebirds, and the blossoms on the 
 
 bough 
 And this wuz yit fore brekfust, with the sun out at 
 
 his best, 
 And bosses kickin* in the barn and dry enough to plow. 
 
 JiKitpz bub >toi?T bnu" ! -ffittf1&*r fetffH ,}rlgfl noY 
 "Cassander ! O Cassander 1" . . . And her only answer 
 
 What? 
 A letter, twisted round the cookstove damper, smokin -hot, 
 
 A-statin : "I wuz married on that day of all the rest, 
 The day my husband fetched me home ef you ain t all 
 f ergot !" 
 
 "Cassander! O Cassander!" seems, allus, long in May, 
 I hear her mother callin her a-callin , night and day 
 
 "Cassander ! O Cassander !" allus callin , as I say, 
 "Cassander! O Cassander!" jes a-callin thataway. 
 
 vrrj ..iihow n 
 287 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 bne nlfit V g>tev/ owl* tafl* *d i "grf3W o?/J foods Tit tte 
 -?55 Ow Queer Old World 
 
 : booft K 9>fit ibho bio 3f!T ,-y/ol<i f nblwoy I : "oa t^m i 
 Per them at s here in airliest infant stages, 
 
 It s a hard world: 
 Per them at gits the knocks of boyhood s ages, 
 
 It s a mean world: 
 Per them at nothin s good enough they re gittin , 
 
 It s a bad world: 
 Per them at learns at last what s right and fitting 
 
 It s a good world. 
 
 THE HIRED MAN. 
 
 is }uo ituz SfJ rjv/ ,iHtra;i 9io Jr/ suw ?.n;3 >n 
 
 IT S a purty hard world you find, my child 
 It s a purty hard world you find! 
 You fight, little rascal! and kick and squall, 
 And snort out medicine, spoon and all! 
 
 When you re here longer you ll change yer mind 
 And simmer down sort o half-rickonciled. 
 But now Jee!- 
 Jlfy/-mun-neel 
 It s a purty hard world, my child! 
 
 It s a purty mean world you re in, my lad- 
 
 It s a purty mean world you re in! 
 We know, of course, in your schoolboy-days 
 It s a world of too many troublesome ways 
 
 . 1 1 17, i - > . . i i- -. - i - .^ 
 
 Of tryin things over and startin ag in, 
 Yit your chance beats what your parents had. 
 But now Oh ! 
 Fire-and-tow ! 
 
 T t s a purty mean world, my lad! 
 288 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 It s a purty bad world you ve struck, young chap 
 
 It s a purty bad world you ve struck 
 But study the cards that you hold, you know, 
 And your hopes will sprout and your mustache grow, 
 And your store-clothes likely will change your luck, 
 And you ll rake a rich ladybird into yer lap ! 
 But now Doubt 
 All things out 
 It s a Durty bad world, young chap ! 
 
 .yiiirf j o rl* bo-t im sbem "art;? nor!) bfiA 
 It s a purty good world this is, old man 
 
 It s a purty good world this is ! 
 For all its follies and shows and lies 
 It s rainy weather, and cheeks likewise, 
 
 And age, hard-hearin and rheumatiz. 
 We re not a-faultin the Lord s own plan- 
 All things jest 
 At their best 
 It s a purty good world, old man! 
 
 156 The Rhymes of Ironquill 
 
 I 
 
 TO EUo ENE F. WARE 
 
 VE allus held till jest of late 
 
 That Poetry and me 
 Got on best, not to sociate 
 
 That is, most poetry; 
 But t other day my son-in-law, 
 
 Milt be n in town to mill 
 Fetched home a present-like, fer Ma, 
 The Rhymes of Ironquill. 
 289 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Milt ust to teach ; and, course, his views 
 
 Ranks over common sense; 
 That s biased me, till I refuse 
 
 Most all he rickommends. 
 But Ma she read and read along 
 
 And cried, like women will, 
 About that "Washerwoman s Song" 
 
 In Rhymes of Ironquill. 
 
 And then she made me read the thing, 
 
 And found my specs and all : 
 And I jest leant back there i jing 
 
 My cheer ag inst the wall 
 And read and read, and read and read, 
 
 All to myse f ontil 
 I lit the lamp and went to bed 
 
 With Rhymes of Ironquill! 
 
 I propped myse f up there, and durn! 
 
 I never shet an eye 
 Till daylight ! hogged the whole concern 
 
 Tee-total, mighty nigh ! 
 I d sigh sometimes, and cry sometimes, 
 
 Er laugh jest fit to kill 
 Clean captured-like. with them-air rhymes 
 
 O that-air Ironquill! 
 
 Read that-un bout old "Marmaton" 
 
 At hain t be n ever "sized" 
 In Song before and yit s rolled on 
 
 Jest same as postrophized ! 
 
writ 
 
 THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Putt me in mind o our old crick 
 
 At Freeport and the mill 
 And Hinchman s Ford till jest homesick 
 
 Them Rhymes of Ironquill! 
 
 Read that-un, too, bout "Game o Whist," 
 
 And likenin Life to fun 
 Like that and playin* out yer fist, 
 
 However cards is run : 
 And them "Tobacker-Stemmers* Song" 
 
 They sung with sich a will 
 Down mongst the misery and wrong 
 
 In Rhymes of Ironquill. 
 
 And old John Brown, who broke the sod 
 
 Of Freedom s faller field 
 And sowed his heart there, thankin God 
 
 Pore slaves would git the yield 
 Rained his last tears fer them and MS 
 
 To irrigate and till 
 A crop of Song as glorious 
 
 As Rhymes of Ironquill. 
 
 And sergeant, died there in the War, 
 
 At talked, out of his head . . . 
 He went "back to the Violet Star," 
 
 I ll bet jest like he said! 
 Yer Wars kin riddle bone and flesh, 
 
 And blow out brains, and spill 
 Life-blood, but Somepin lives on, fresh 
 
 As Rhymes of Ironquill. 
 
 291 
 
THE IIOOS1ER BOOK 
 
 <uo V> hnirn HI n i t u 7 
 
 757 The Smitten Purist 
 
 AND THE CHARMING MISS SMITHES EFFECT UPON HIM 
 
 HPHWEET Poethy ! let me lithp forthwith, 
 JL That I may thhing of the name of Smith- - 
 
 Which name, alath ! 
 
 In Harmony hath 
 
 No adequate rhyme, letht you grant me thith, 
 That the thimple thibillant thound of cth 
 (Which to thave my thoul, I can not expreth!) 
 
 Thuth I may thhingingly, 
 
 Wooingly and winningly 
 Thu thu thound in the name of Smith. 
 
 give me a name that will rhyme with Smith, 
 For wild and weird ath the sthrange name ith, 
 
 I would sthrangle a sthrain 
 And a thad refrain 
 Faint and sthweet ath a whithpered kissth ; 
 
 1 would thhing thome thong for the mythtic mitth 
 Who beareth the thingular name of Smith 
 
 The dathzlingly brilli-ant, 
 Rarely rethilliant 
 
 _ T ;, , If tOy/ 5 ! i. 
 
 Ap pup pellation of Smith! 
 
 O had I a name that would rhyme with Smith- 
 Thome rhythmical tincture of rethonant blith 
 
 Thome melody rare 
 
 Ath the cherubth blare 
 
 292 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 On them little trumpeths they re foolin* with- 
 1 would tint me down, and I d thhing like thith 
 Of the girl of the thingular name of Smith 
 
 The sthrangely curiouth, 
 
 Rich and luxuriouth 
 Pup patronymic of Smith ! 
 
 ! .>riiw.*i\-j\i^ art} -fio 
 irniilj um;} firil bnc ecfinurfi J niA 
 
 158 An Idiot 
 
 I M on y thist a idiot 
 That s what folks calls a feller what 
 Ain t got no mind 
 
 Of any kind, 
 
 Ner don t know nothin he s forgot. 
 I m one o them But I know why 
 The bees buzz this way when they fly, 
 Cause honey it gits on their wings. 
 Ain t thumbs and fingers funny things ? 
 
 What s money? Hooh! it s thist a hole 
 Punched in a round thing at won t roll 
 Cause they s a string 
 
 Poked through the thing 
 And fastened round your neck that s all! 
 Ef I could git my money off, 
 I d buy whole lots o whoopin -cough 
 And give it to the boy next door 
 Who died cause he ain t got no more. 
 
 293 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 What is it when you die? / know, 
 You can t wake up ag in, ner go 
 To sleep no more 
 
 Ner kick, ner snore, 
 Ner lay and look and watch it snow; 
 
 And when folks slaps and pinches you 
 You don t keer nothin what they do. 
 No honey on the angels wings ! 
 Ain t thumbs and fingers funny things? 
 
 /5P The Hired Man s Faith in Chil 
 dren 
 
 r i, ;-IUo ?-Jio t tedv/: &r.f\T 1 
 
 I BELIEVE all childern s good, 
 Ef they re only understood, 
 Even bad ones, pears to me, 
 S jes as good as they kin be! 
 
 160 "Them Old Cheery Words" 
 
 I R fcrrfl ?/H IrfooH *Y-mo. <i z ti;!* // 
 
 PAP he allus ust to say, 
 "Chris mus comes but onc t a year ! 
 Liked to hear him thataway, 
 
 In his old split-bottomed cheer 
 By the fireplace here at night 
 Wood all in, and room all bright, 
 Warm and snug, and folks all here: 
 "Chris mus comes but onc t a year!" 
 294 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Me and Lize, and Warr n and Jess 
 
 And Eldory home fer two 
 Weeks vacation ; and, I guess, 
 
 Old folks tickled through and through, 
 Same as we was, "Home onc t more 
 Fer another Chris mus shore !" 
 Pap ud say, and tilt his cheer, 
 "Chris mus comes but onc t a year !" 
 
 Ilij J92 "1"3 Ti>bi -> I TKii *O 
 
 Mostly Pap was ap* to be 
 
 Ser ous in his "daily walk," 
 As he called it; giner ly 
 
 Was no hand to joke er talk. 
 Fac s is, Pap had never be n 
 Rugged-like at all and then 
 Three years in the army had 
 He pped to break him purty bad. 
 
 .oh o) Jrhjh 9-/UOY zn ,08 
 Never flinched! but frost and snow 
 
 Hurt his wownd in winter. But 
 You bet Mother knowed it, though ! 
 
 Watched his feet and made him putt 
 On his flannen; and his knee, 
 Where it never healed up, he 
 Claimed was "well now mighty near 
 Chris mus comes but onc t a year !" 
 
 os. ot bn I mrlJ aw \<> II A 
 "Chris mus comes but onc t a year !" 
 
 Pap ud say, and snap his eyes. . .witi .J 
 Row o apples sputter n here 
 
 Round the hearth, and me and Lize 
 
 2Q5 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Crackin hicker -nuts ; and Warr n 
 And Eldory parchin corn ; 
 And whole raft o young folks here. 
 "Chris mus comes but onc t a year !" 
 
 Mother tuk most comfort in 
 
 Jes a-he ppin Pap : She d fill 
 His pipe fer him, er his tin 
 O hard cider; er set still 
 And read fer him out the pile 
 O newspapers putt on file 
 Whilse he was with Sherman (She 
 Knowed the whole war-history!) 
 
 Sometimes he d git het up some. 
 
 "Boys," he d say, "and you girls, too, 
 Chris mus is about to come ; 
 
 So, as you ve a right to do, 
 Celebrate it ! Lots has died, 
 Same as Him they crucified, 
 That you might be happy here. 
 Chris mus comes but onc t a year!" 
 
 ; T r; t 9jH5l fcirf fcrri; nwrnsfi ,-iiF rtO 
 Missed his voice last Chris mus missed 
 
 Them old cheery words, you know. 
 Mother belt up tel she kissed 
 
 All of us then had to go 
 And break down ! And I laughs : "Here ! 
 Chris mus comes but onc t a year! " 
 "Them s his very words," sobbed she, 
 "When he asked to marry me." 
 
 296 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "Chris mus comes but onc t* a year !" 
 "Chris mus comes but onc t a year !" 
 Over, over, still I hear, 
 
 "Chris mus comes but onc t a year !" 
 Yit, like him, I m goin* to smile 
 And keep cheerful all the while : 
 Allus Chris mus There And here 
 "Chris mus comes but onc t a year !" 
 
 
 ir 
 bodoVl 
 
 297 
 
HIS PA S ROMANCE 
 
 161 His Pa s Romance 
 
 rtMirl J" 
 
 A^L at I ever want to be 
 Is ist to be a man like Pa 
 When he wuz young an married Ma 1 
 Uncle he telled us yisterdy 
 Ist all about it then cause they, 
 My Pa an Ma, wuz bofe away 
 To tend P tracted Meetin , where 
 My Pa an* Ma is allus there 
 When all the big "Revivals" is, 
 An "Love-Feasts," too, an "Class," an "Prayer. 5 
 An when s "Comoonian Servicis." 
 An , yes, an* Uncle said to not 
 To never tell them nor let on 
 Like we knowed now ist how they got 
 First married. So while they wuz gone 
 Uncle he telled us ever thing 
 Bout how my Pa wuz ist a pore 
 Farm-boy. He says, I tell you what, 
 Your Pa ivuz pore ! But neighbers they 
 All liked him all but one old man 
 An* his. old wife that folks all say 
 Nobody liked, ner never can! 
 
 298 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Yes, sir ! an Uncle purt nigh swore 
 
 About the mean old man an way 
 
 He treat my Pa ! cause he s a pore 
 
 Farm-hand but prouder an a king 
 
 An ist work on, he did, an* wore 
 
 His old patched clo es, ist anyway, 
 
 So he saved up his wages then 
 
 He ist worked on an saved some more, 
 
 An ist worked on, ist night an day 
 
 Till, sir, he save up nine er ten 
 
 Er hunnerd dollars I But he keep 
 
 All still about it, Uncle say 
 
 But he ist thinks an thinks a heap 1 
 
 Though what he wuz a-thinkin , Pa 
 
 He never tell a soul but Ma 
 
 (Then, course, you know, he wuzn t Pa, 
 
 An , course, you know, she wuzn t Ma 
 
 They wuz ist sweethearts, course you know) ; 
 
 Cause Ma wuz ist a girl, about 
 
 Sixteen ; an* when my Pa he go 
 
 A-courtin her, her Pa an Ma 
 
 The very first they find it out 
 
 Wuz maddest folks you ever saw ! 
 
 Cause it wuz her old Ma an Pa 
 
 At hate my Pa, an toss their head, 
 
 An ist raise Ned ! An her Pa said 
 
 He d ruther see his daughter dead ! 
 
 An said she s ist a child! an so 
 
 Wuz Pa ! An* ef he wuz man-grown 
 
 An* only man on earth below, 
 
 His daughter shouldn t marry him 
 
 Ef he s a king an on his throne 1 
 
 299 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Pa s chances then looked mighty slim 
 
 Per certain, Uncle said. But he 
 
 He never told a soul but her 
 
 What he wuz keepin quiet fer. 
 
 Her folks ist lived a mile from where 
 
 He lived at an they drove past there 
 
 To git to town. An ever one 
 
 An all the neighbers they liked her 
 
 An showed it ! But her folks no, sir ! 
 
 Nobody liked her parunts none ! 
 
 An so when they shet down, you know, 
 
 On Pa an old man tell him so 
 
 Pa ist went back to work, an she 
 
 Ist waited. An , sir ! purty soon 
 
 Her folks they thought he s turned his eye 
 
 Seme other way cause by-an -by 
 
 They heard he d rented the old place 
 
 He worked on. An one afternoon 
 
 A neighber, that had bu st a trace, 
 
 He tell the old man they wuz signs 
 
 Around the old place that the young 
 
 Man wuz a-fixin up the old 
 
 Log cabin some, an he had brung 
 
 New f urnichur from town ; an told 
 
 How th old house uz whitewashed clean 
 
 An* sweet wiv mornin -glory vines 
 
 An hollyhawks all round the door 
 
 An winders an a bran -new floor 
 
 In th old porch an wite-new green- 
 
 An -red pump in the old sweep-well! 
 
 An , Uncle said, when he hear tell 
 
 300 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 O all them things, the old man he 
 1st grin an says, he "reckon now 
 Some gal, er widder anyhow, 
 That silly boy he s coaxed at last 
 To marry him !" he says, says-ee, 
 "An ef he has, so mote it be !" 
 Then went back to the house to tell 
 His wife the news, as he went past 
 The smokehouse, an* then went on in 
 The kitchen, where his daughter she 
 Wuz washin , to tell her, an grin 
 An try to worry her a spell ! 
 The mean old thing ! But Uncle said 
 She ain t cry much ist pull her old 
 Sunbonnet forrerds on her head 
 So s old man he can t see her face 
 At all ! An when he s pose he scold 
 An jaw enough, he ist clear out 
 An think he s boss of all the place ! 
 
 "lire* sill ni j-*a qot tv ?riT 
 Then Uncle say, the first you know 
 They s go to be a Circus-show 
 In town ! an old man think he ll take 
 His wife an go. An when she say 
 To take their daughter, too, she shake 
 Her head like she don t want to go ; 
 An when he sees she wants to stay, 
 The old man takes her, anyway ! 
 An so she went ! But Uncle he 
 Said she looked mighty sweet that day, 
 Though she wuz pale as she could be, 
 
 301 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 A-speshully a-drivin by 
 
 Wite where her beau lived at, you know; 
 
 But out the corner of his eye 
 
 The old man watch* her ; but she throw 
 
 Her pairsol round so she can t see 
 
 The house at all ! An then she hear 
 
 Her Pa an Ma a-talkin low 
 
 And kind o* laughin -like ; but she 
 
 1st set there in the seat behind, 
 
 P tendin like she didn t mind. 
 
 An , Uncle say, when they got past 
 
 The young man s place, an pearantly 
 
 He wuzn t home, but off an gone 
 
 To town, the old man turned at last 
 
 An* talked back to his daughter there, 
 
 All pleasant-like, from then clean on 
 
 Till they got into town, an where 
 
 The Circus wuz, an on inside 
 
 O that, an through the crowd, on to 
 
 The very top seat in the tent 
 
 Wite next the band a-bangin through 
 
 A tune at bu st his yeers in two ! 
 
 An there the old man scrouged an tried 
 
 To make his wife set down, an* she 
 
 A-yellin ! But ist what she meant 
 
 He couldn t hear, ner couldn t see 
 
 Till she turned round an pinted. Then 
 
 He turned an looked an looked again ! 
 
 He ist saw neighbers ever where 
 
 But, sir, his daughter wuzn t there I 
 
 302 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An , Uncle says, he even saw 
 
 Her beau, you know, he hated so ; 
 
 An he wuz with some other girl. 
 
 An then he heard the Clown "Haw-haw 1" 
 
 An saw the horses wheel an whirf 
 
 Around the ring, an heard the zipp 
 
 O the Ringmaster s long slim whip 
 
 But that whole Circus, Uncle said, 
 
 Wuz all inside the old man s head ! 
 
 An Uncle said, he didn t find 
 
 His daughter all that afternoon 
 
 An her Ma says she ll lose her mind 
 
 Kf they don t find her purty soon ! 
 
 But, though they looked all day, an stayed 
 
 There fer the night p formance not 
 
 No use at all ! they never laid 
 
 Their eyes on her. An then they got 
 
 Their team out, an the old man shook 
 
 His fist at all the town, an* then 
 
 Shook it up at the moon ag in, 
 
 An* said his time ud come, some day! 
 
 An* jerked the lines an* driv away 
 
 Uncle, he said, he spect, that night. 
 The old man s madder yet when they 
 Drive past the young man s place, an hear 
 A fiddle there, an see a light 
 Inside, an* shadders light an gay 
 A-dancin crost the winder-blinds. 
 An some young chaps outside yelled, "Say! 
 What pears to be the hurry hey?" 
 
 303 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But the old man ist whipped the lines 
 An* streaked past like a runaway ! 
 An now you ll be su prised, I bet ! 
 I hardly ain t quit laughin yet 
 When Uncle say, that jamboree 
 An dance an all w y, that s a sign 
 That any old man ort to see, 
 As plain as 8 and 1 makes 9, 
 That they s a wcddin wite inside 
 That very house he s whippin so 
 To git apast an , sir ! the bride 
 There s his own daughter ! Yes, an oh ! 
 She s my Ma now an* young man she 
 Got married, he s my Pa! Whoop-eel 
 But Uncle say to not laugh all 
 The laughin yet, but please save some 
 To kind o spice up what s to come ! 
 
 *U3 ^rfj nodt W. /iofl no gov-> ibrfT 
 Then Uncle say, about next day 
 The neighbers they begin to call 
 An wish em well, an say how glad 
 An proud an tickled ever way 
 Their friends all is an how they had 
 The lovin prayers of ever* one 
 That had homes of their own ! But none 
 Said nothin bout the home that she 
 Had run away from! So she sighed 
 Sometimes an wunst she purt* nigh cr. 
 
 Well, Uncle say, her old Pa, he 
 1st like to died, he wuz so mad ! 
 An her Ma, too! But by-an -by 
 They cool down some. 
 
 304 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An* bout a week, 
 She want to see her Ma so bad, 
 She think she ll haf to go ! An so 
 She coax him ; an he kiss her cheek 
 An* say, Lord bless her, course they ll go ! 
 An , Uncle say, when they re bofe come 
 A-knockin there at her old home 
 W y, first he know, the door it flew 
 Open, all quick, an she s jerked in, 
 An , quicker still, the door s banged to 
 An locked : an crosst the winder-sill 
 The old man pokes a shotgun through 
 An says to git ! "You stold my child," 
 He says ; "an , now she s back, w y, you 
 Clear out, this minute, er I ll kill 
 You! Yes, an I ull kill her, too, 
 Ef you don t go !" An then, all wild, 
 His young wife begs him please to go ! 
 An* so he turn an walk all slow 
 An pale as death, but awful still 
 An ca m back to the gate, an on 
 Into the road, where he had gone 
 So many times alone, you know ! 
 An , Uncle say, a whipperwill 
 Holler so lonesome, as he go 
 On back to rds home, he say he spec* 
 He ist ud like to wring its neck ! 
 An I ain t think he s goin back 
 All by hisse f but Uncle say 
 That s what he does, an it s a f ac ! 
 
 An pears-like he s gone back to stay 
 Cause there he stick , ist thataway, 
 305 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 
 An* don t go nowheres any more, 
 Ner don t nobody ever see 
 Him set his foot outside the door 
 Till bout five days, a boy loped down 
 The road, a-comin past from town, 
 An he called to him from the gate, 
 An sent the old man word : He s thought 
 Things over now ; an , while he hate 
 To lose his wife, he think she ought 
 To mind her Pa an Ma an do 
 Whatever they advise her to. 
 An sends word, too, to come an git 
 Her new things an the furnichur 
 That he had special bought fer her 
 Cause, now that they wuz goin* to quit, 
 She s free to ist have all of it ; 
 So, fer his love fer her, he say 
 To come an git it, wite away. 
 An spang ! that very afternoon, 
 Here come her Ma ist bout as soon 
 As eld man could hitch up an tell 
 Her "hurry back !" An bout as quick 
 As she s drove there to where my Pa 
 I mean to where her son-in-law 
 Lives at, he meets her at the door 
 All smilin , though he s awful pale 
 An trimbly like he s ist been sick ; 
 He take her in the house An , fore 
 She knows it, they s a cellar-door 
 Shet on her, an she hears the click 
 Of a old rusty padlock! Then, 
 Uncle, he say, she kind o stands 
 
 306 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An thinks an thinks an thinks ag in 
 
 An mayby thinks of her own child 
 
 Locked up like her ! An Uncle smiled, 
 
 An I ist laughed an clapped my hands ! 
 
 An there she stayed ! An she can cry 
 
 Ist all she want ! an yell an kick 
 
 To ist her heart s content! an try 
 
 To pry out wiv a quiltin -stick ! 
 
 But Uncle say he guess at last 
 
 She bout give up, an holler* through 
 
 The door-crack fer to please to be 
 
 So kind an good as send an tell 
 
 The old man, like she want him to, 
 
 To come, fore night, an set her free, 
 
 Er they wuz rats down there ! An yell 
 
 She did, till, Uncle say, it soured 
 
 The morning s milk in the back yard ! 
 
 But all the answer reached her, where 
 
 She s skeered so in the dark down there, 
 
 Wuz ist a mutterin that she heard 
 
 "I ve sent him word! I ve sent him word! 
 
 An shore enough, as Uncle say, 
 
 He has "sent word !" 
 
 Well, it s plum night 
 An all the house is shet up tight 
 Only one winder bout half-way 
 Raised up, you know ; an ain t no light 
 Inside the whole house, Uncle say. 
 Then, first you know, there where the team 
 
 307 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK . 
 
 Stands hitched yet, there the old man stands- 
 
 A old tin lantern in his hands 
 
 An monkey-wrench ; an he don t seem 
 
 To make things out, a-standin there. 
 
 He comes on to the gate an feels 
 
 An fumbles fer the latch then hears 
 
 A voice that chills him to the heels 
 
 "You halt ! an stand right where you air ! ! 
 
 Then, sir! my my his son-in-law, 
 
 There at the winder wiv his gun, 
 
 He tell the old man what he s done : 
 
 "You hold my wife a prisoner 
 
 An your wife, drat ye! I ve got her! 
 
 An now, sir," Uncle say he say, 
 
 "You ist turn round an climb wite in 
 
 That wagon, an drive home ag in 
 
 An bring my wife back wite away, 
 
 An we ll trade then an not before 
 
 Will I unlock my cellar-door 
 
 Not fer your wife s sake ner your own ; 
 
 But my wife s sake an hers alone!" 
 
 An , Uncle say, it don t sound like 
 
 It s so, but yet it is ! He say, 
 
 From wite then, somepin seem to strike 
 
 The old man s funny-bone some way ; 
 
 An , minute more, that team o his 
 
 Went tearin down the road k whiz! 
 
 An in the same two-forty style 
 
 Come whizzin back ! An oh, that-air 
 
 Sweet girl a-cryin all the while, 
 
 y* 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 
 Thinkhv about her Ma there, shet 
 
 In her own daughter s cellar, where 
 
 1st week or so she s kep house there, 
 
 She hadn t time to clean it yet! 
 
 So when her Pa an her they git 
 
 There an the young man grab an kiss 
 
 An hug her, till she make him quit 
 
 An ask him where her mother is. 
 
 An* then he smile* an try to not; 
 
 Then slow-like find th old padlock key, 
 
 An blow a oat-hull out of it, 
 
 An then stoop down there where he s got 
 
 Her Ma locked up so keer fully 
 
 An* where, wite there, he say he thought 
 
 It art to been the old man though 
 
 Uncle, he say, he reckon not 
 
 When out she bounced, all tickled so 
 
 To taste fresh air ag in an find 
 
 Her folks wunst more, an grab her chile 
 
 An cry an laugh, an even go 
 
 An hug the old man ; an he wind 
 
 Her in his arms, an laugh, an pat 
 
 Her back, an say he s riconciled, 
 
 in such a happy scene as that, 
 
 To swap his daughter for her Ma, 
 
 An have so smart a son-in-law 
 
 As they had ! "Yes, an he s my Pa !" 
 
 I laugh an yell , "Hooray-hooraw !" 
 
 iiifb yrr; *nju 
 309 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 __ .r 
 
 162 Almost Beyond Endurance 
 
 I AIN T a-goin lo cry no more, no more ! 
 I m got ear-ache, an Ma can t make 
 It quit a-tall; 
 
 An Carlo bite my rubber-ball 
 An puncture it; an Sis she take 
 An* poke my knife down through the stable-floor 
 
 An loozed it blame it all ! 
 But I ain t goin to cry no more, no more ! 
 
 An Aunt Mame wrote she s comin , an she can t 
 
 Folks is come there! An I don t care 
 She is my Aunt ! 
 
 An my eyes stings ; an I m 
 
 1st coughin all the time, 
 An hurts me so, an where my side s so sore 
 
 Grampa felt where, an he 
 
 Says "Mayby it s plcurasy!" 
 But I ain t goin to cry no more, no more ! 
 
 An I clumbed up an nen failed off the fence. 
 An Herbert he ist laugh at me ! 
 An my fi -cents 
 
 It sticked in my tin bank, an I ist tore 
 Purt nigh by thumbnail off, a-tryin to git 
 It out nen smash it ! An* it s in there yit ! 
 
 But I ain t goin to cry no more, no more ! 
 
 Oo! I m so wicknd! An my breath s so hot 
 
 Ist like I run an don t res none 
 But ist run on when I ought to not; 
 Yes, an my chin 
 
 310 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An lips s all warpy, an teeth s so fast, 
 An* s a place in my throat I can t swaller past 
 An* they all hurt so ! 
 An oh, my-oh ! 
 I m a-startin ag in 
 
 I m a-startin ag in, but I won t, fer shore ! 
 / ist ain t gain to cry no more, no more! 
 
 The Lisper 
 
 ELSIE MINGUS lisps, she does! 
 She lives wite acrosst from us 
 In Miz. Ayers uz house at she 
 Rents part to the Mingusuz. 
 Yes, an Elsie plays wiv me. 
 
 Elsie lisps so, she can t say 
 Her own name, ist anyway! 
 
 She says "Elthy" like they wuz 
 Feathers on her words, an they 
 
 Ist stick on her tongue like fuzz. 
 
 Myf she s purty, though! An when 
 She lisps, w y, she s purty nen! 
 
 When she telled me, wunst, her doll 
 Wuz so "thweet," an T p ten 
 
 / lisp too, she laugh at s all ! 
 
 311 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 She don t never git mad none 
 Cause she know I m ist in fun. 
 Elsie she ain t one bit sp iled. 
 Of all childerns ever one- 
 She s the ladylike st child ! 
 
 My Ma say she is ! One time 
 Elsie start to say the rhyme, 
 
 "Thing a thong o thixpenth" Wheel 
 I ist yell! An Ma say I m 
 
 Unpolite as I can be ! 
 
 Wunst I went wiv Ma to call 
 On Elsie s Ma, an eat an all ; 
 
 An nen Elsie, when we ve et, 
 An we re playin in the hall, 
 
 Elsie say: It s etikett 
 
 Fer young gentlemens, like me, 
 Eatin when they s company, 
 
 Not to never ever crowd 
 Down their food, ner "thip their tea 
 
 Ner thup thoop so awful loud !" 
 
 .9d$uot- -wff oo 
 Our Betsy 
 
 US CHILDERN S all so lonesome, 
 We hardly want to play 
 Or skip or swing or anything, 
 Cause Betsy she s away! 
 .312 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 She s gone to see her people 
 At her old home. But then 
 
 Oh! every child ll jist be wild 
 When she s back here again ! 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Then it s whoopty-doopty do o den! 
 
 Whoopty-dooden then! 
 Oh! it s whoopty-doopty doodcn, 
 
 When Betsy s back again! 
 
 She s like a mother to us, 
 
 And like a sister, too 
 Oh, she s as sweet as things to eat 
 
 When all the dinner s through ! 
 
 And hey ! to hear her laughin ! 
 
 And ho ! to hear her sing ! 
 To have her back is all we lack 
 
 Of havin everything! 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Then it s whoopty-doopty dooden! 
 
 Whoopty-dooden then! 
 Oh! it s whoopty-doopty doodcn, 
 
 When Betsy s back again! 
 
 Oh ! some may sail the northern lakes, 
 
 And some to foreign lands, 
 And some may seek old Nameless Creek, 
 
 Or India s golden sands; 
 3T3 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Or some may go to Kokomo, 
 And some to Mackinac, 
 
 But I ll go down to Morgantown 
 To fetch our Betsy back. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Then it s ivhoopty-doopty dooden! 
 
 Whoopty-dooden then! 
 Oh! it s whoopty-doopty dooden, 
 
 When Betsy s back again! 
 
 The Toy-Balloon 
 
 wuz a Big Day wunst in town, 
 A An little Jason s Pa 
 Buyed him a little toy-balloon, 
 
 The first he ever saw. 
 An oh ! but Jase wuz more n proud, 
 
 A-holdin to the string 
 And scrougin through the grea -big crowd, 
 
 To hear the Glee Club sing. 
 
 The Glee Club it wuz goin to sing 
 
 In old Masonic Hall ; 
 An Speakin , it wuz in there, too, 
 
 An soldiers, folks an all : 
 An Jason s Pa he git a seat 
 
 An set down purty soon, 
 A-holdin little Jase, an him 
 
 A-holdin his balloon. 
 
 3U 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An while the Speakin s startin up 
 
 An ever body still 
 The first you know wuz little Jase 
 
 A-yellin fit to kill ! 
 Nen Jason s Pa jump on his seat 
 
 An grab up in the air, 
 But little Jason s toy-balloon 
 
 Wuz clean away from there ! 
 jishl bio ?;>ii Yti, ,> r .)OiIrt \] :yA-j>-sl j -stfl nA 
 An Jase he yelled ; an Jase s Pa, 
 
 Still lookin up, clumb down 
 While that-air little toy-balloon 
 
 Went bumpin roun an roun 
 Ag inst the ceilin , way up there 
 
 Where ever body saw, 
 An they all yelled, an Jason yelled, 
 
 An little Jason s Pa ! 
 
 But when his Pa he packed him out 
 
 A-screamin nen the crowd 
 Looked down an hushed till they looked up 
 
 An howled again out loud ; 
 An nen the speaker, mad an pale, 
 
 Jist turned an left the stand, 
 An all j ined in the Glee Club "Hail, 
 
 Columby, Happy Land !" 
 
 315 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 1 66 Old Granny Dusk 
 
 ^HeX 3-brii stm ygtu4 W> .^?-i) 31 T 
 
 OLD Granny Dusk, when the sun goes down, 
 Here she comes into thish-yer town ! 
 Out o the wet black woods an swamps 
 In she traipses an trails an tromps 
 With her old sunbonnet all floppy an brown, 
 An her cluckety shoes, an her old black gown, 
 Here she comes into thish-yer town ! 
 
 -HfWKOif) flifiufu ,([17 . iinfool llll ri 
 Old Granny Dusk, when the bats begin 
 To flap around, comes a-trompin in ! 
 An the katydids they rasp an whir, 
 An the lightnin -bugs all blink at her; 
 An the old Hop-toad turns in his thumbs, 
 An the bunglin June-bug booms an* bums, 
 An the Bullfrog croaks, "O here she comes !" 
 
 Old Granny Dusk, though I m feard o you, 
 
 Shore-fer-certain I m sorry, too: 
 
 Cause you look as lonesome an starved an sad 
 
 As a mother at s lost ever child she had. 
 
 Yet never a child in thish-yer town 
 
 Clings at yer hand er yer old black gown, 
 
 Er kisses the face you re a-bendin down. 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 
 Billy Miller s Circus-Show 
 
 AT BILLY MILLER S Circus-Show 
 In their old stable where it s at 
 The boys pays twenty pins to go, 
 
 An gits their money s-worth at that ! 
 Cause Billy he can climb and chalk 
 His stockin -feet an purt nigh walk 
 A tight-rope yes, an* cf he fall 
 He ll ketch, an "skin a cat" at s all ! 
 
 He ain t afeard to swing and hang 
 1st by his legs 1 an mayby stop 
 
 An yell "Look out !" an nen k-spang ! 
 He ll let loose, upside-down, an drop 
 Wite on his hands ! An nen he ll do 
 "Contortion-acts" ist limber through 
 As "Injarubber Mens" at goes 
 With shore-fer-certain circus-shows ! 
 
 At Billy Miller s Circus-Show 
 He s got a circus-ring an they s 
 
 A dressin -room, so s he can go 
 
 An dress an paint up when he plays 
 He s somepin else ; cause sometimes he s 
 "Ringmaster" bossin like he please 
 An sometimes "Ephalunt" er "Bare- 
 Back Rider," prancin out o there ! 
 
 An* sometimes an the best of all! 
 He s "The Old Clown," an got on clo es 
 
 All stripud, an white hat, all tall 
 An peakud like in shore- nuff shows, 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An got three-cornered red-marks, too, 
 On his white cheeks ist like they do !- 
 An you d ist die, the way he sings 
 An dances an says funny things ! 
 
 168 Good-By cr Howdy-Do 
 
 SAY good-by er howdy-do 
 What s the odds betwixt the two? 
 Comin goin , ev ry day 
 Best friends first to go away 
 Grasp of hands you d ruther hold 
 Than their weight in solid gold 
 Slips their grip while greetin you. 
 Say good-by er howdy-do ! 
 
 Howdy-do, and then, good-by 
 Mixes jes like laugh and cry; 
 Deaths and births, and worst and best, 
 Tangled their contrariest ; 
 Ev ry jinglin weddin -bell 
 Skerrin up some funer l knell. 
 Here s my song, and there s your sigh. 
 Howdy-do, and then, good-by! 
 
 Say good-by er howdy-do 
 Jes the same to me and you ; 
 Tain t worth while to make no fuss, 
 Cause the job s put up on us ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Some One s runnin this concern 
 That s got nothin else to learn : 
 Ef He s willin , we ll pull through- 
 Say good-by er howdy-do ! 
 
 169 Never Talk Back 
 
 NEVER talk back ! sich things is repperhensible ; 
 A feller only hurts hisse f that jaws a man that s 
 
 hot; 
 In a quarrel, ef you ll only keep your mouth shet and act 
 
 sensible, 
 The man that does the talkin 11 git worsted every shot ! 
 
 Never talk back to a feller that s abusin you 
 
 Jes let him carry on, and rip, and snort, and swear ; 
 And when he finds his blamin and defamin s jes amusin 
 
 you, 
 
 You ve got him clean kaflummixed, and you want to 
 hold him there ! 
 
 Never talk back, and wake up the whole community 
 And call a man a liar, over Law, er Politics. 
 
 You can lift and land him furder and with gracefuller 
 
 impunity 
 With one good jolt of silence than half a dozen kicks! 
 
 319 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 Me and Mary 
 
 ALL my feelin s in the Spring- 
 Gits so blame contrary, 
 I can t think of anything 
 
 Only me and Mary ! 
 "Me and Mary !" all the time, 
 "Me and Mary!" like a rhyme, 
 Keeps a-dingin on till I m 
 Sick o "Me and Mary !" 
 
 "Me and Mary ! Ef us two 
 
 Only was together 
 Playin* like we used to do 
 
 In the Aprile weather !" 
 All the night and all the day 
 I keep wishin thataway 
 Till I m gittin old and gray 
 
 Jes on "Me and Mary !" 
 
 Muddy yit along the pike 
 
 Sence the Winter s freezin , 
 And the orchard s back ard-like 
 
 Bloomin out this season ; 
 Only heerd one bluebird yit 
 Nary robin ner tomtit ; 
 
 What s the how and why of it? 
 
 i " - 1 u > . 1 K 1 i J i n -> 
 
 Spect it s "Me and Mary!" 
 
 Me and Mary liked the birds 
 
 That is, Mary sort o 
 Liked em first, and afterwards, 
 
 W y, I thought I d ort o. 
 320 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And them birds ef Mary stood 
 Right here with me, like she should 
 They d be singin , them birds would, 
 
 All fer me and Mary. 
 ..tioiia ffhnjji .-,Ji io-os ori aiil ts^II 
 Birds er not, I m hopin some 
 
 I can git to plowin ! 
 Ef the sun ll only come, 
 
 And the Lord allowin , 
 Guess to-morry I ll turn in 
 And git down to work ag in ; 
 This here loaferin won t win, 
 
 Not fer me and Mary ! 
 ! JB tfsifi h lo t tftli OTOiI// VibnoY/ 
 Fer a man that loves, like me, 
 
 And s afeard to name it, 
 Till some other feller, he 
 
 Gits the girl dad-shame-it! 
 Wet er dry, er clouds er sun 
 Winter gone er jes begun 
 Outdoor work fer me er none, 
 
 No more "Me and Mary!" 
 
 171 Fire at Night 
 
 FIRE ! Fire ! Ring ! and ring ! 
 Hear the old bell bang and ding ! 
 Fire ! Fire ! way at night, 
 Can t you hear ? I think you might 1 
 Can t you hear them-air clangin bells ?- 
 W y, / can t hear nothin else 1 
 
 321 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Fire ! Ain t you wake at last ! 
 Hear them horses poundin past 
 Hear that ladder-wagon grind 
 Round the corner 1 and, behind, 
 Hear the hose-cart, turnin short, 
 And the horses slip and snort, 
 As the engine s clank-and-jar 
 Jolts the whole street, near and far. 
 Fire ! Fire ! Fire I Fire ! 
 Can t 3 ou h ist that winder higher? 
 La ! they ve all got past like "scat !" 
 Night s as black as my old hat 
 And it s rainin , too, at that ! . . . 
 Wonder where their old fire s at! 
 
 if 2 A Fall-Crick View of the Earth 
 quake 
 
 I KIN hump my back and take the rain, 
 And 1 don t keer how she pours; 
 I kin keep kind o ca m in a thunder-storm, 
 
 No matter how loud she roars; 
 I hain t much skeered o the lightnin 
 
 Ner I hain t sich awful shakes 
 Afeard o cyclones but I don t want none 
 O yer dad-burned old earthquakes ! 
 
 As long as my legs keeps stiddy, 
 And long as my head keeps plum , 
 
 And the buildin stays in the front lot, 
 I still kin whistle, some! 
 322 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But about the time the old clock 
 
 Flops off n the mantel-shelf, 
 And the bureau skoots fer the kitchen, 
 
 I m a-goin to skoot, myself ! 
 
 Plague-take ! ef you keep me stabled 
 
 While any earthquakes is around ! 
 I m jes like the stock, I ll beller 
 
 And break fer the open ground ! 
 And I low you d be as nervous, 
 
 And in jes about my fix, 
 When your whole farm slides from inunder you, 
 
 And on y the mor gage sticks ! 
 
 Now cars hain t a-goin to kill you 
 
 Ef you don t drive crost the track ; 
 Crediters never ll jerk you up 
 
 Ef you go and pay em back ; 
 You kin stand all moral and mundane storms 
 
 Ef you ll on y jes behave 
 But a EARTHQUAKE i well, ef it wanted you 
 
 It ud husk you out o yer grave ! 
 
 j Spirits at Home 
 
 THE FAMILY 
 
 THERE was Father, and Mother, and Emmy, and 
 Jane, 
 
 And Lou, and Ellen, and John and me 
 
 And Father was killed in the war, and Lou 
 
 She died of consumption, and John did too, 
 
 And Emmy she went with the pleurisy. 
 
 323 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 THE SPIRITS 
 
 Father believed in em all his life 
 
 But Mother, at first, she d shake her head 
 
 Till after the battle of Champion Hill, 
 
 When many a flag in the winder-sill 
 
 Had crape mixed in with the white and red ! 
 
 I used to doubt em myself till then 
 
 But me and Mother was satisfied 
 When Ellen she set, and Father came 
 And rapped "God Bless You !" and Mother s name, 
 
 And The Flag s up here !" . . . And we all just 
 cried. 
 
 Used to come to us often, after that, 
 
 And talk to us just as he used to do, 
 Pleasantest kind ! And once, for John, 
 He said he was "lonesome, but wouldn t let on 
 Fear Mother would worry, and Emmy and Lou." 
 
 But Lou was the bravest girl on earth 
 For all she never was hale and strong, 
 She d have her fun ! With her voice clean lost 
 She d laugh and joke us that "when she crossed 
 To Father, we d all come taggin along!" 
 
 Died just that way! And the raps was thick 
 
 That night, as they often since occur, 
 Extry loud ! And when Lou got back 
 She said it was Father and her and "whack!" 
 
 She tuk the table and we knowed her! 
 
 324 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 John and Emmy, in five years more, 
 
 Both had went. And it seemed like fate, 
 
 For the old home it burnt down. But Jane 
 
 And me and Ellen we built again 
 The new house, here, on the old estate. 
 
 And a happier family I don t know 
 
 Of anywheres unless it s them, 
 Father, with all his love for Lou, 
 And her there with him, and healthy, too, 
 
 And laughin , with John and little Em. 
 
 And, first we moved in the new house here, 
 
 They all dropped in for a long powwow : 
 "We like your buildin , of course," Lou said, 
 "But wouldn t swap with you to save your head 
 For we live in the ghost of the old house now !" 
 
 Some Christinas Youngsters 
 
 THE STRENGTH OF THE WEAK 
 
 EST Chris mus, little Benny 
 Wuzn t sick so bad, 
 Now he s had the worst spell 
 
 Ever yet he had. 
 Ever Chris mus-morning, though, 
 
 He ll p tend as if 
 He s asleep an first you know 
 He s got your "Chris mus-giP!" 
 
 325 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Pa he s good to all of us 
 
 All the time; but when, 
 Ever time it s Chris mus, 
 
 He s as good-again ! 
 Sides our toys an candy, 
 
 Ever Chris mus, he 
 Gives us all a quarter, 
 
 Certain as can be ! 
 
 Pa, this morning, tiptoe in 
 
 To make the fire, you know, 
 Long fore it s daylight, 
 
 An all s ice an snow ! 
 An Benny holler, "Chris mus-gifl" 
 
 An Pa jump an say, 
 "You ll only git a dollar if 
 
 You skeer me thataway!" 
 
 THE LITTLE QUESTIONER 
 
 Babe she s so always 
 
 Wantin more to hear 
 All about Santy Claus, 
 
 An says : "Mommy dear, 
 Where s Santy s home at 
 
 When he ain t away? 
 An is they Mizzuz Santy Claus 
 
 An little folks say? 
 Chris mus, Santy s always here 
 
 Don t they want him, too? 
 When it ain t Chris mus 
 
 What does he do?" 
 
 326 
 
THE HOOSTER BOOK 
 in 
 
 PARENTAL CHRISTMAS PRESENTS 
 
 Parunts don t git toys an things, 
 
 Like you d think they ruther. 
 Mighty funny Chris mus-gif s 
 
 Parunts gives each other ! 
 Pa give Ma a barrel o flour, 
 
 An Ma she give to Pa 
 The nicest dinin -table 
 
 She know he ever saw 1 
 
 srt& i : bloD ! visiine! >5A. 7 LI ( 
 
 bbirrrt ooj v/ona b 
 
 
 327 
 
MORNING 
 
 -A Ho osier Calendar 
 
 JANUARY 
 
 BLEAK January! Cold as fate, 
 And ever colder ever keener 
 Our very hair cut while we wait 
 
 By winds that clip it ever cleaner: 
 Cold as a miser s buried gold, 
 
 Or nether-deeps of old tradition 
 Jeems January f you re a cold 
 Proposition ! 
 
 FEBRUARY 
 
 You, February, seem to be 
 
 Old January s understudy, 
 But play the part too vaudeville-y, 
 
 With wind too moist and snow too muddy 
 You overfreeze and overthaw 
 
 Your "Hos ler Jo Mike recitation 
 But hints that you re, at best, a raw 
 Imitation. 
 
 328 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 MARCH 
 
 And, March, you ve got no friends to spare- 
 Warm friends, I mean unless coal-dealers, 
 
 Or gas-well owners, pipin where 
 The piper s paid above all spielers ; 
 
 You are a month, too, of complex 
 Perversities beyond solution 
 
 A sort o "loveliest of your sex" 
 Institution ! 
 
 APRIL 
 
 But, April, when you kind o come 
 A-sa nterin down along our roadway, 
 
 The bars is down, and we re at home, 
 And you re as welcome as a show-day ! 
 
 First thing we know, the sunshine falls 
 Spring-like, and drenches all Creation 
 
 With that- ere ba m the poet calls 
 "Inspiration." 
 
 MAY 
 
 And May! It s warmin jest to sec 
 
 The crick thawed clear ag in and daiicin 
 
 Pear-like it s tickled most as me 
 A-prancin crosst it with my pants on ! 
 
 And then to hear the bluebird whet 
 His old song up and lance it through you, 
 
 Clean through the boy s heart beatin yet 
 Hallylooya ! 
 
 329 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 JUNE 
 
 June LI, I jest git doped on June! 
 
 The trees and grass all at their greenest 
 
 The round earth swung twixt sun and moon, 
 Jest at its so to say serenest : 
 
 In country, stars and whipperwills ; 
 In town, all night the boys invadin 
 
 Leadin citizens winder-sills, 
 Sair-a-nadin . 
 
 JULY 
 
 Fish still a-bitin some; but most 
 
 Too hot fer anything but layin 
 Jest do-less like, and watchin clo st 
 
 The treetops and the squirrels playin 
 Their tail-tips switched bove knot and limb, 
 
 But keepin* most in sequestration 
 Leavin a big part to the im- 
 Magination. 
 
 AUGUST 
 
 Now when it s August I can tell 
 It by a hundred signs and over ; 
 
 They is a mixed ripe-apple-smell 
 
 And mashed-down grass and musty clover ; 
 
 Bees is as lazy most as me 
 
 Bee-bird eats em gap s his wings out 
 
 So lazy at I don t think he 
 
 Spits their stings out! 
 
 330 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 SEPTEMBER 
 
 September, you appeal to all, 
 
 Both young and old, lordly and lowly ; 
 You stuff the haymow, trough and stall, 
 
 Till horse and cow s as roly-poly 
 As pigs is, slopped on buttermilk 
 
 And brand, shipstuff and tater-peelin s 
 And folks, too, feelin fine as silk 
 With all their f eelin s 1 
 
 OCTOBER 
 
 If I d be n asked for my advice, 
 
 And thought the thing out, ca m and sober- 
 Sizin the months all once or twice, 
 
 I d la nch d the year out with October. . 
 All Nature then jest veiled and dressed 
 
 In weddin gyarments, ornamented 
 With ripe-fruit-gems and kissin jest 
 New-invented ! 
 
 NOVEMBER 
 
 I m feared November s hopes is few 
 
 And far between! Cold as a Monday- 
 Washday, er a lodge-man who 
 
 You got to pallbear for on Sunday ; 
 Colder and colder every day 
 
 The fixed official time for sighin , 
 A sinkin state you jest can t stay 
 In, or die in ! 
 
 331 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 DECEMBER 
 
 December why, of course we grin 
 And bear it shiverin every minute, 
 
 Yet warm from time the month rolls in 
 Till it skites out with Christmas in it ; 
 
 And so, for all its coldest truths 
 And chill, goose-pimpled imperfections, 
 
 It wads our lank old socks with Youth s 
 Recollections. 
 
 1/6 The Hired Man s Dog-Story 
 
 Twa dogs that were na throng at hame 
 Forgather d ance upon a time. 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 DOGS, I contend, is jes* about 
 Nigh human git em studied out. 
 I hold, like us, they ve got their own 
 Reasonin powers at s theirs alone 
 Same as their tricks and habits too, 
 Provin , by lots o things they do, 
 That instinct s not the only thing 
 That dogs is governed by, i jing! 
 And I ll say furder, on that line, 
 
 And prove it, that they s dogs a-plenty 
 Will show intelligence as fine 
 
 As ary ten men out o twenty ! 
 
 332 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Jevver investigate the way 
 Sheep-killin dogs goes at it hey? 
 Well, you dig up the facts and you 
 Will find, first thing, they s always two 
 Dogs goes together on that spree 
 O blood and puore dog-deviltry! 
 And, then, they always go at night 
 Mind ye, it s never in daylight, 
 When folks is up and wide awake, 
 No self-respectin dogs ll make 
 Mistakes o judgment on that score,-- 
 And I ve knowed fifty head or more 
 O slaughtered sheep found in the lot, 
 Next morning the old farmer got 
 His folks up and went out -to feed, 
 And every livin soul agreed 
 That all night long they never heerd 
 The bark o dog ner bleat o skeered 
 And racin , tromplin flock o sheep 
 
 A-skallyhootin roun the pastur , 
 To rouse em from their peaceful sleep 
 
 To that heart-renderin disaster ! 
 
 Well, now, they s actchul evidence 
 In all these facts set forth ; and hence 
 When, by like facts, it has been foun 
 That these two dogs colloguin roun 
 At night as thick as thieves by day 
 Don t go together anyway, 
 And, pearantly, hain t never met 
 Each other; and the facts is set 
 
 333 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 On record furder, that these smart 
 Old pards in crime lives miles apart 
 Which is a trick o theirs, to throw 
 Off all suspicion, don t you know! 
 One s a tozvn-dog belongin to 
 Some good man, maybe er to you ! 
 And one s a country-dog, er "jay" 
 As you nickname us thataway. 
 Well, now ! these is the facts I got 
 
 (And, mind ye, these is facts not guesses) 
 To argy on, concernin what 
 
 Fine reasonin powers dogs p sesses. 
 
 My idy is, the dog lives in 
 
 The town, we ll say, runs up ag in 
 
 The country-dog, some Saturday, 
 
 Under a old farm-wagon, say, 
 
 Down at the Court-house hitchin -rack. 
 
 Both lifts the bristles on their back 
 
 And show their teeth and growl as though 
 
 They meant it pleasant-like and low, 
 
 In case the fight hangs fire. And they 
 
 Both wag then in a friendly way, 
 
 The town-dog sayin : "Seems to me, 
 
 Last Dimocratic jubilee, 
 
 I seen you here in town somewhere?" 
 
 The country-dog says : "Right you air ! 
 
 And right here s where you seen me, too, 
 
 Under this wagon, watchin you!" 
 
 "Yes," says the town-dog, "and I thought 
 
 We d both bear watchin , like as not." 
 
 334 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And as he yawns and looks away, 
 
 The country-dog says, "What s your lay?" 
 
 The town-dog whets his feet a spell 
 
 And yawns ag in, and then says, "Well, 
 
 Before I answer that Ain t you 
 
 A Mill Crick dog, a mile er two 
 
 From old Chape Clayton s stock-farmsay?" 
 
 "Who told you? says the jay-dog "hey ?" 
 
 And looks up, real su prised. "I guessed" 
 
 The town-dog says "You tell the rest, 
 
 How s old Chape s mutton, anyhow? 
 
 How many of em s ready now 
 
 How many s ripe enough f er use, 
 
 And how s the hot, red, rosy juice?" 
 
 " Mm !" says the country-dog, "I think 
 
 I sort o see a little blink 
 
 O what you mean." And then he stops 
 
 And turns and looks up street and lops 
 
 His old wet tongue out, and says he, 
 
 Lickin* his lips, all slobbery, 
 
 "Ad-drat my melts! you re jes my man! 
 
 I ll trust you, cause I know I can !" 
 
 And then he says, "I ll tell you jes 
 
 How things is, and Chape s carelessness 
 
 About his sheep, fer instance, say, 
 
 To-morry Chapes ll all be way 
 
 To Sund y-meetin and ag in 
 
 At night." "At night? That lets us in ! 
 
 Better the day " the town-dog says 
 
 " Better the deed. We ll pray ; Lord, yes 1 
 
 May the outpourin grace be shed 
 
 Abroad, and all hearts comforted 
 
 335 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Accordin to their lights !" saj^s he, 
 "And that, of course, means you and me." 
 And then they both snarled, low and quiet 
 Swore where they d meet. And both stood by it I 
 
 Jes half-past eight on Sund y night, 
 Them two dogs meets, the town-dog, light 
 O foot, though five mile he had spanned 
 O field, beech-wood and bottom-land. 
 Bat, as books says, we draw a veil 
 Over this chapter of the tale! . . . 
 Yit when them two infernal, mean, 
 Low, orn ry whelps has left the scene 
 O carnage chased and putt to death 
 The last pore sheep, they ve yit got breath 
 Enough to laugh and joke about 
 The fun they ve had, while they sneak out 
 The woods-way for the old crick where 
 They both plunge in and wash their hair 
 And rench their bloody mouths, and grin, 
 As each one skulks off home ag in 
 Jes innardly too proud and glad 
 
 To keep theirselves from kind o strutting 
 Thinkin about the fun they d had 
 
 When their blame wizzens needed cuttin 1 
 
 Dogs is deliber t. They can bide 
 Their time till s picions all has died. 
 The country-dog don t pear to care 
 Per town no more, he s off somewhere 
 When the folks whistles, as they head 
 The team t rds town. As I jes said, 
 
 336 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Dogs is deliber t, don t forgit! 
 So this-here dog he s got the grit 
 To jes deprive hisse f o town 
 For bout three weeks. But time rolls roun ! . 
 Same as they first met : Saturday- 
 Same Court-house hitch-rack and same way 
 The team wuz hitched same wagon where 
 The same jay-dog growls under there 
 When same town-dog comes loafin by, 
 With the most innocentest eye 
 And giner l meek and lowly style, 
 As though he d never cracked a smile 
 In all his mortal days ! And both 
 Them dogs is strangers, you d take oath ! 
 
 Both keeps a-lookin sharp, to see 
 If folks is watchin jes the way 
 They acted that first Saturday 
 
 They talked so confidentchully. 
 "Well" says the town-dog, in a low 
 And careless tone "Well, whatch you know ?" 
 " Know? " says the country-dog "Lots more 
 Than some smart people knows that s shore !" 
 And then, in his dog-language, he 
 Explains how slick he had to be 
 When some suspicious folks come roun 
 A-tryin to track and run him down 
 
 Like he d had anything to do 
 With killin over fifty head 
 O sheep! "Jes think! and me" he said, 
 
 "And me as innocent as you, 
 That very hour, five mile* away 
 In this town, like you air to-day !" 
 
 337 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "Ah !" says the town-dog, "there s the beauty 
 O bein prepared for what may be, 
 
 And washin when you ve done your duty! ; 
 No stain o blood on you er me 
 Ner wool in our teeth ! Then" says he, 
 
 "When wicked men has wronged us so, 
 We ort to learn to be forgivin 
 
 Half the world, of course, don t know 
 How the other gits its livin* !" 
 
 777 Her Poet-Brother 
 
 o 
 
 H ! what ef little childerns all 
 
 ijK /y ; 
 Wuz big as parunts is ! 
 
 Nen I d join pa s Masonic Hall 
 An wear gold things like his ! 
 
 An you d "receive," like ma, an be 
 My "hostuss" An , gee-whizz ! 
 
 We d alluz have ice-cream, ef we 
 Wuz big as parunts is ! 
 
 ; V/O;"1 . 
 
 Wiv all the money mens is got 
 
 We d buy a Store wiv that, 
 1st candy, pies an cakes, an not 
 
 No drygoods cept a hat- 
 An -plume fer you an* "plug" fer me, 
 
 An clothes like ma s an his, 
 At on y ist fit us ef we 
 
 Wuz big as parunts is ! 
 
 338 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An* ef we had a little boy 
 
 An girl like me an you, 
 Our Store d keep ever kind o toy 
 
 They d ever want us to! 
 We d hire "Old Kriss" to tend to be 
 
 The boss of all the biz 
 An ist "charge" ever thing ef we 
 
 Wuz big as parunts is! 
 9vhh oJ *r rfbirfw nJ- nibfoW ibill rtO 
 
 178 I Got to Face Mother To-day! 
 
 viiji vlitjvo ijrn&M o 5 }on _ ^Tt>ii *niJiW m l o?! 
 
 I GOT to face Mother to-day, fer a fact ! 
 F got to face Mother to-day! 
 And jes how Fll dare to, an how she will act, 
 
 Is more than a mortal can say I 
 But F got to face her F got to ! And so 
 Here s a old father clean at the end of his row! 
 
 And Pink and Wade s gone to the farm fer her now 
 And Fm keepin house fer em here 
 
 Their purty, new house and all paid fer! But how 
 Am / goin to meet her, and clear 
 
 Up my actchully he ppin em both to elope? 
 
 ( Cause Mother wuz set and wuz no other hope!) 
 
 I don t think it s Wade she s so biased ag in , 
 
 But his bizness, a railroadin man 
 At runs a switch-engine, day out and day in, 
 
 And s got to make hay while he can, 
 It s a danycrsoinc job, I ll admit, but see what 
 A fine-furnished home at he s already got . 
 
 339 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And Pink W y, the girl wuz just pinin away, 
 
 So what could her old father do, 
 When he found her, hid-like, in a loose load of hay, 
 
 But jes to drive on clean into 
 The aidge of the city, where singular thing ! 
 Wade switched us away to the Squire, i jing! 
 
 Now a-leavin me here they re driv off, with a cheer, 
 On their weddin -trip which is to drive 
 
 Straight home and tell Mother, and toll her back here 
 And surrender me, dead er alive! 
 
 So I m waitin here not so blame overly gay 
 
 As I wus, cause I* got to face Mother to-day! 
 
 Ivsb-o* vxiroM 33i oJ Jog 1 -I 
 
 J/p A Little Lame Boy s Views 
 
 ON Scursion-days an Shows an Fairs 
 They ain t no bad folks anywheres I 
 On street-cars same as you 
 Seems like somebody allus sees 
 I m lame, an takes me on their knees, 
 
 An holds my crutches, too 
 An* asts me what s my name, an pays 
 My fare theirse f On all Big Days ! 
 
 The mob all scrowdges you an* makes 
 Enough o bluffs, fer goodness-sakes ! 
 
 But none of em ain t mad 
 They re only let tin on. / know ; 
 An I can tell you why it s so : 
 
 They re all of em too glad 
 
 340 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They re ever one, jes glad as me 
 To be there, er they wouldn t be ! 
 
 The man that sells the tickets snoops 
 My "one-er" in, but sort o stoops 
 
 An grins out at me then 
 Looks mean an business-like an sucks 
 His big mustache at me an chucks 
 
 Too much change out again. 
 He s a smooth citizen, an yit 
 He don t fool me one little bit ! 
 
 An then, inside fer all the jam 
 Folks, seems-like, all knows who I am, 
 
 An tips me nods an winks ; 
 An even country-folks has made 
 Me he p eat pie an marmalade, 
 
 With bottled milk fer "drinks" ! 
 Folks all s so good to me that I 
 Sometimes I nearly purt near* cry. 
 
 An all the kids, high-toned er pore, 
 Seems better than they wuz before, 
 
 An wants to kind o "stand 
 In" with a feller see him through 
 The free lay-out an sideshows, too, 
 
 An do the bloomin "grand" ! 
 On Scursion-days an Shows an Fairs 
 They ain t no bad folks anywheres ! 
 
 341 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 180 Rabbit 
 
 ISTOSE it takes a feller at s be n 
 Raised in a country-town, like me, 
 To predate rabbits ! . . . Eight er ten 
 Bellerin boys and two er three 
 Yelpin dawgs all on the trail 
 O one little pop-eyed cottontail ! 
 
 Bout the first good fall o snow 
 So s you kin track em, don t you know, 
 Where they ve run, and one by one 
 Hop em up and chase em down 
 And prod em out of a old bresh-pile 
 Er a holler log they re a-hidin roun , 
 Er way en-nunder the ricked cord-wood 
 Er crosstie-stack by the railroad track 
 Bout a mile 
 
 Out o sight o the whole ding town ! . . 
 Well ! them s times at I call good 1 
 
 /Wi xf Ww Y^ffj Vtlrfif TifJ-yrf pfn-vv- 
 Rabbits ! w y, as my thoughts goes back 
 
 To them old boyhood days o mine, 
 I kin sic him now and see "Old Jack" 
 A-plowin snow in a rabbit-track 
 And a-pitchin over him, head and heels, 
 Like a blame hat-rack, 
 As the rabbit turns fer the timber-line 
 Down the County Ditch through the old 
 corn-fields. , 
 
 342 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Yes, and I ll say right here to you, 
 Rabbits that boys has earnt, like that 
 Skinned and hung fer a night er two 
 On the old back-porch where the pump s 
 
 done froze 
 
 Then fried bout right, where your brekfust s at, 
 With hot brown gravy and shortenin bread, 
 Rabbits, like them er I ort to a said, 
 I s pose, 
 
 Rabbits like those 
 Ain t so p ticalar pore, I guess, 
 Fer eatin 1 purposes! 
 
 .03 ot vat-fq "^|m^w > ;?mo8 taO 
 \i\r.-7iu \AciO nimmiwa-fi nl 
 
 Grampa s Choice 
 
 FIRST and best of earthly joys, 
 I like little girls and boys : 
 Which of all do I like best? 
 Why, the one that s happiest. 
 
 Think m Back 
 
 I VE be n thinkin back, of late, 
 S prisin ! And I m here to state 
 I m suspicious it s a sign 
 Of age, maybe, er decline 
 Of my faculties, and yit 
 I m not feelin old a bit 
 Any more than sixty-four 
 Ain t no young man any more ! 
 
 343 
 
THE IIOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Thinkin back s a thing at grows 
 On a feller, I suppose 
 Older at he gits, i jack, 
 More he keeps a-thinkin back ! 
 Old as old men git to be, 
 Er as middle-aged as me, 
 Folks ll find us, eye and mind 
 Fixed on what we ve left behind 
 Rehabilitatin -like 
 Them old times we used to hike 
 Out barefooted fer the crick, 
 Long bout Aprile first to pick 
 Out some "warmest" place to go 
 In a-swimmin Ooh! my-oh! 
 Wonder now we hadn t died ! 
 Grate horseradish on my hide 
 Jes a-thinkin how cold then 
 That- ere worter must a be n ! 
 
 Thinkin back W y, goodness me! 
 I kin call their names and see 
 Every little tad I played 
 With, er fought, er was afraid 
 Of, and so made him the best 
 Friend I had of all the rest! 
 Thinkin back, I even hear 
 Them a-callin , high and clear, 
 Up the crick-banks, where they seem 
 Still hid in there like a dream 
 And me still a-pantin on 
 The green pathway they have gone ! 
 
 344 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Still they hide, by bend er ford 
 Still they hide but, thank the Lord 
 (Thinkin back, as I have said), 
 I hear laughin on ahead ! 
 
 The Raggedy Man on Children 
 
 GHILDERN take em as they run- 
 You kin bet on ev ry one ! 
 Treat em right and reco nize 
 Human souls is all one size. 
 
 Jevver think? the world s best men 
 Wears the same souls they had when 
 They run barefoot way back where 
 All these little children air. 
 
 Heerd a boy, not long ago, 
 Say his parents sasscd him so. 
 He d correct em, ef he could, 
 Then be good ef they d be good. 
 
 Lizabuth-Ann on Bakin -Day 
 
 iljiw .<,W;f /Mff,.-]. 
 
 OUR Hired Girl, when it s bakin -day 
 She s out o patience allus, 
 An* tells us "Hike outdoors an play, 
 An when the cookies s done," she ll say, 
 "Land sake ! she ll come an call us !" 
 
 345 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An* when the little doughbowl s all 
 1st heapin -full, she ll come an call 
 
 Nen say, "She ruther take a switchin 
 Than have a pack o pesky childern 
 
 Trackin round the kitchen 1" 
 
 185 "Mother" 
 
 I M gittin old I know, 
 It seems so long ago 
 So long sence John was here 1 
 He went so young ! our Jim 
 S as old now most as him, 
 Close on to thirty year ! 
 
 I know I m gittin old 
 I know it by the cold, 
 
 From time at first frost flies. 
 Seems like sence John was here 
 Winters is more severe ; 
 
 And winter I de-spise ! 
 
 And j^et it seems, some days, 
 John s here, with his odd ways . . . 
 
 Comes soon-like from the corn- 
 Field, callin "Mother" at 
 Me like he called me that 
 
 Even fore Jim was born! 
 
 346 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 When Jim come La ! how good 
 Was all the neighborhood ! 
 
 And Doctor ! when I heerd 
 Him joke John, kind o low, 
 And say : Yes, folks could go 
 
 Pa needn t be afeard ! 
 
 When Jim come, John says- e 
 A-bendin over me 
 
 And baby in the bed 
 And jes us three, says- e 
 "Our little family!" 
 
 And that was all he said . .V 1 
 
 And cried jes like a child! 
 Kissed me again, and smiled, 
 
 Cause I was cryin too. 
 And here I am again 
 A-cryin , same as then 
 
 Yet happy through and through ! 
 
 The old home s most in mind 
 And joys long left behind . . . 
 
 Jim s little h istin crawl 
 Acrost the floor to where 
 John set a-rockin there . . . 
 
 (I m gittin* old That s all!) 
 
 \ v --V ?CM 
 
 I m gittin old no doubt 
 
 (Healthy as all git-out!) 
 
 347 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But, strangest thing I do, 
 I cry so easy now 
 I cry jes anyhow 
 
 The fool-tears wants me to ! 
 
 But Jim he won t be told 
 
 At "Mother" s gittin old! . . . 
 
 Hugged me, he did, and smiled 
 This morning, and bragged "shore" 
 He loved me even more 
 
 Than when he was a child ! 
 
 "! vfiwr.! t>ltjs! TriO" 
 That s his way ; but ef John 
 Was here now, lookin on, 
 
 He d shorely know and see : 
 "But, Mother, " s pect he d say, 
 "S pose you air gittin gray, 
 
 You re younger yet than me!" 
 
 f|-jf{) fcj; inii:> ,*nPI3-A 
 
 I m gittin old, because 
 
 Our young days, like they was, 
 
 Keeps comin back so clear, 
 At little Jim, once more, 
 Comes h istin crost the floor ! 
 
 Per John s old rockin -cheer ! 
 
 O beautiful! to be 
 A-gittin old, like me! . . ^ 
 
 Hey, Jim! Come in now, Jim! 
 Your supper s ready, dear! 
 (How more, every year, 
 
 He looks and acts like him!) 
 
 348 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 186 What Little Saul Got, Christmas 
 
 US parents mostly thinks our own s 
 The smartest childern out ! 
 But Widder Shelton s little Saul 
 
 Beats all I know about ! 
 He s weakly-like in p int o health, 
 
 But strong in word and deed 
 And heart and head, and snap and spunk, 
 And allus in the lead ! 
 
 Comes honest by it, fer his Pa 
 
 Afore he passed away 
 He was a leader (Lord, I d like 
 
 To hear him preach to-day!) 
 He led his flock ; he led in prayer 
 
 Fer spread o Peace and when 
 Nothin but War could spread it, he 
 
 Was first to lead us then ! 
 
 So little Saul has grit to take 
 
 Things jes as they occur; 
 And Sister Shelton s proud o him 
 
 As he is proud o her ! 
 And when she "got up" jes fer him 
 
 And little playmates all- 
 A Chris mus-tree they ever one 
 
 Was there but little Saul. 
 
 Pore little chap was sick in bed 
 Next room ; and Doc was there, 
 
 And said the childern might file past, 
 But go right back to where 
 
 349 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The tree was, in the settin -room. 
 
 And Saul jes laid and smiled 
 Ner couldn t nod, ner wave his hand, 
 
 It hurt so Bless the child ! 
 
 And so they left him there with Doc 
 
 And warm tear of his Ma s . . . 
 Then suddent-like high over all 
 
 Their laughture and applause 
 They heerd : "I don t care what you git 
 
 On your old Chris mus-tree, 
 Cause I m got somepin you all hain t 
 
 I m got the pleurisy 1" 
 
 187 G oldie Goodwin 
 
 MY old Uncle Sidney he says it s a sign 
 All over the Worl , an ten times out of nine, 
 He can tell by the name of a child ef the same 
 Is a good er bad youngun ist knows by their name ! 
 So he says. "It s the vurry best sign in the Worl 
 That Goldie Goodwin is a good little girl," 
 An says, "First she s gold then she s good an behold, 
 Good s bout \eventy-hunnerd times better than gold! 
 
 Ivf n\""A j\A 2i:w Qfirfo sfttif -rro I 
 
 350 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 188 Symptoms 
 
 I M not a-workin now! 
 I m jes a-layin round 
 A-lettin other people plow. 
 
 I m cumberin the ground ! . . . 
 I jes don t keer! I ve done my sheer 
 
 O sweatin ! Anyhow, 
 In this dad-blasted weather here, 
 I m not a-workin now! 
 
 The corn and wheat and all 
 
 Is doin well enough ! 
 They got clean on from now tel Fall 
 
 To show what kind o stuff 
 At s in their own dad-burn backbone; 
 
 So, while the Scriptur s low 
 Man ort to reap as he have sown 
 
 I m not a-workin now ! 
 
 The grass en-nunder these- 
 
 Here ellums long "Old Blue," 
 And shadders o the sugar-trees, 
 
 Beats farmin* quite a few ! 
 As feller says, I ruther guess 
 
 I ll make my comp ny bow 
 And snooze a few hours more er less. 
 
 I m not a-workin now ! 
 
 -yrjIS to} J ngw Ji H 
 jhov/ oJ 1ry I 
 
 351 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 289 "Blue-Monday" at the Shoe Shop 
 
 IN THE EARLY SEVENTIES 
 
 OH, if we had a rich boss 
 Who liked to have us rest, 
 With a dime s lift for a benchmate 
 
 Financially distressed, 
 A boss that s been a "jour." himself 
 
 And ain t forgot the pain 
 Of restin one day in the week, 
 Then back to work againe ! 
 
 ! ilyiju!! 1 :? !!>// jtfofj ;-.[ 
 Chorus 
 
 TiuJ/i *o ]jfil;4 }f,ii // 7/iin i t, r 
 Ho, it s hard times together, 
 
 We ve had em, you and I, 
 In all kinds of weather, 
 
 Let it be wet or dry; 
 But I m bound to earn my livelihood 
 
 Or lay me down and die! 
 
 Poverty compels me 
 
 To face the snow and sleet, 
 For poor wife and children 
 
 Must have a crust to eat. 
 The sad wail of hunger 
 
 It would drive me insane, 
 If it wasn t for Blue-Monday 
 
 When I git to work againe ! 
 
 352 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 Chorus 
 
 i& to $8$) s PVt 
 
 Ho, it s hard times together, 
 We ve had em, you and I, 
 
 In all kinds of weather, 
 Let it be wet or dry ; 
 
 But I m bound to earn my livelihood 
 Or lay me down and die! 
 
 Then it s stoke up the stove, Boss, 
 
 And drive off the damps : 
 Cut out me tops, Boss, 
 
 And lend me your clamps ; 
 Pass us your tobacky 
 
 Till I give me pipe a start. .V.- 
 Lor , Boss ! how we love ye 
 
 For your warm kynd heart! 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Ho, it s hard times together, 
 We ve had cm, you and I , 
 
 In all kinds of weather, 
 Let it be wet or dry; 
 
 But I m bound to earn my livelihood 
 Or lay me down and die! 
 
 353 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 190 It s Got to Be 
 
 ,t<*M^>t t*-.wh bv>n *,M t ,<V\\ 
 "TT7HEN it s got to be," like I always say, 
 
 V V As I notice the years whiz past, 
 And know each day is a yesterday, 
 
 When we size it up, at last, 
 Same as I said when my boyhood went 
 
 And I knowed we had to quit, 
 "It s got to be, and it s goin to be 1" 
 So I said "Good-by" to it. 
 
 It s got to be, and it s goin to be! 
 
 So at least I always try 
 To kind o say in a hearty way, 
 
 "Well, it s got to be. Good-by!" 
 
 The time just melts like a late, last snow, 
 
 When it s got to be, it melts! 
 But I aim to keep a cheerful mind, 
 
 Ef I can t keep nothin else ! 
 I knowed, when I come to twenty-one, 
 
 That I d soon be twenty-two, 
 So I waved one hand at the soft young man, 
 
 And I said, "Good-by to you!" 
 
 It s got to be, and it s goin to be! 
 
 So at least I always try 
 To kind o say, in a cheerful way, 
 
 "Well, it s got to be. Good-by !" 
 
 354 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Tliey kep* a-goin , the years and years, 
 
 Yet still I smiled and smiled, 
 For I d said "Good-by" to my single life, 
 
 And now had a wife and child: 
 Mother and son and the father one, 
 
 Till, last, on her bed of pain, 
 She jes smiled up, like she always done, 
 
 And I said "Good-by" again. 
 
 It s got to be, and it s goin to be! 
 
 So at least I always try 
 To kind o say, in a humble way, 
 
 "Well, it s got to be. Good-by !" 
 
 And then my boy as he growed to be 
 
 Almost a man in size, 
 Was more than a pride and joy to me, 
 
 With his mother s smilin eyes. 
 He gimme the slip, when the War broke out, 
 
 And followed me. And I 
 Never knowed till the first fight s end . . . 
 
 I found him, and then, . . . "Good-by." 
 
 It s got to be, and it s goin to be! 
 
 So at least I always try 
 To kind o say, in a patient way, 
 
 "Well, it s got to be. Good-by !" 
 
 I have said, "Good-by ! Good-by ! Good-by !" 
 
 With my very best good will, 
 All through life from the first, and I 
 Am a Cheerful old man still : 
 
 355 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But it s got to end, and it s goin to end ! 
 
 And this is the thing I ll do, 
 With my last breath I will laugh, O Death, 
 
 And say "Good-by" to you! . . . 
 
 It s got to be! And again I say, 
 When his old scythe circles high, 
 
 I ll laugh of course, in the kindest way, 
 As I say "Good-by! Good-by!" 
 
 "Ix/f-booO .yd oJ K.\> ij ji ,I!oY/" 
 
 Hoosier Spring-Poetry 
 
 WHEN ever thing s a-goin like she s got-a-goin now, 
 The maple-sap a-drippin , and the buds on ever 
 
 bough 
 
 A-sort o reachin up ards all a-trimblin , ever one, 
 Like bout a million brownie-fists a-shakin at the sun ! 
 The childern wants their shoes off fore their breakfast, 
 
 and the Spring 
 
 Is here so good-and-plenty that the old hen has to sing ! 
 When things is goin thisaway, w y, that s the sign, you 
 
 know, 
 That ever thing s a-goin like we like to see her go ! 
 
 Oh, ever thing s a-goin like we like to see her go ! 
 
 Old Winter s up and dusted, with his dratted frost and 
 
 snow 
 
 The ice is out the crick ag in, the freeze is out the ground, 
 And you ll see faces thawin too ef you ll jes look around ! 
 
 356 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The bluebird s landin home ag in, and glad to git the 
 
 chance, 
 Cause here s where he belongs at, that s a settled circum 
 
 stance ! 
 
 And him and mister robin now s a-chunin fer the show. 
 Oh, ever thing s a-goin like we like to see her go ! 
 
 The sun ain t jes p tendin now! The ba m is in the 
 
 breeze 
 The trees ll soon be green as grass, and grass as green as 
 
 trees ; 
 
 The buds is all jes eechin , and the dogwood down the run 
 Is bound to bu st out laughin fore another week is done ; 
 The bees is wakin , gap y-like, and fnmblin fer their buzz, 
 A-thinkin , ever-wakefuler, of other days that wuz, 
 When all the land wuz orchard-blooms and clover, don t 
 you know. . . . 
 
 Oh, ever thing s a-goin like we like to see her go! 
 
 192 Bub Says 
 
 r I^HE moon in the sky is a custard-pie, 
 -L An the clouds is the cream pour d o er it, 
 An* all o the glittering stars in the sky 
 Is the powdered-sugar for it. 
 
 Johnts he s proudest boy in town 
 Cause his Mommy she cut down 
 His Pa s pants fer Johnts an there 
 Is nuff left fer nother pair! 
 
 357 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 One time, when her Ma was gone, 
 Little Elsie she put on 
 All her Ma s fine clothes an black 
 Grow-grain-silk, an sealskin-sack ; 
 Nen while she wuz flouncin out 
 In the hall an round about, 
 Some one knocked, an Elsie she 
 Clean forgot an run to see 
 Who s there at the door an saw 
 Mighty quick it wuz her Ma. 
 But ef she ain t saw at all, 
 She d a-knowed her parasol! 
 
 fl *>} mtcfim? b !B^I--fqj:3 *rri :kv/ ? 
 Gran pas an Gran mas is funniest folks ! 
 Don t be jolly, ner tell no jokes, 
 Tell o the weather an frost an snow 
 O that cold New Year s o long-ago ; 
 An then they sigh at each other an cough 
 An* talk about suddently droppin off. 
 
 m i lfvl et>irob-9fft *nA 
 Perversity 
 
 T 
 
 YOU have more n likely noticed, 
 When you didn t when you could. 
 That jes the thing you didn t do 
 Was jes the thing you should. 
 
 358 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Name Us no Names no More 
 
 SIXG, oh, rarest of roundelays ! 
 Sing the hilarity and delight 
 
 Of our childhood s gurgling, giggling days! 
 When our eyes were as twinkling-keen and bright 
 And our laughs as thick as the stars at night, 
 
 And our breasts volcanoes of pent hoo-rays ! 
 When we grouped together in secret mirth 
 And sniggered at everything on earth 
 But specially when strange visitors came 
 And we learned, for instance, that their name 
 
 was Fishback or Mothershead or Philpott 
 
 or Dalrymple or Fullenwider or Applewhite 
 
 or Hunnicutt or Tubbs or Oldshoe ! 
 " Oldshoe! jcminy-jce!" thinks we 
 "Hain t that a funny name! tee-hee-hee!" 
 
 -JO- -11> 21 !"["/ TH 10. ____ rlj.e >-t(fir) "JO _ JOOITT^ 
 
 Barefoot racers from everywhere, 
 
 We d pelt in over the back porch floor 
 For "the settin -room," and cluster there 
 Like a clot of bees round an apple-core, 
 And sleeve our noses, and pinafore 
 Our smearcase-mouths, and slick our hair, 
 And stare and listen, and try to look 
 Like "Agnes" does in the old school-book, 
 Till at last we d catch the visitor s name, 
 Redinhouse, Lippscomb, or Burlingame, 
 or Winkler or Smock or Tutewiler or 
 Daubenspeck or Throckmorton or Rubottom 
 or Bixler 
 
 359 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 " Bi.rler! jcmlny-jce!" thinks we 
 "Hain t that a funny name! tcc-hee-hcc!" 
 
 Peace ! Let be ! Fall away ! Fetch loose ! 
 
 We can t have fun as we had fun then! 
 Shut up, Memory ! what s the use ? 
 When the girls and boys of 8 and 10 
 Are now well, matronly, or old men, 
 And Time has (so to say) "cooked our goose!" 
 But ah ! if we only could have back 
 The long-lost laughs that we now so lack 
 And so vainly long for, how we could 
 Naturely wake up the neigh-ber-/wod, 
 over the still heterogenious names ever un 
 rolling from the endless roster of ortho 
 graphic actualities, such names for fur 
 ther instance of good faith simply such 
 names as Vanderlip or Funkhouser or 
 Smoot or Galbreath or Frybarger or 
 Dinwiddie or Bouslog or Puterbaugh 
 or Longnecker or Hartpence or Wig 
 gins or Pangborn or Bowersox 
 "Bowersox"! Gee I Bui alas! now we 
 Taste salt tears in our "tee-hee-hee"! 
 
 oJ ^i* bfiS:tfiS>j 
 ,>Iood-IooflD2 bio ail! ni s 
 
 jo- :orn 
 duH io~~ no) tomifooiif T 
 
 360 
 
3HT 
 
 POEMS HERE AT HOME 
 
 /P5 77i* Poems Here at Home 
 
 THE Poems here at Home ! Who ll write em down, 
 Jes as they air in Country and in Town ? 
 Sowed thick as clods is crost the fields and lanes, 
 Er these- ere little hop-toads when it rains ! 
 Who ll "voice" em? as I heerd a feller say 
 At speechified on Freedom, t other day, 
 And soared the Eagle tel, it peared to me, 
 
 She wasn t bigger n a bumble-bee ! 
 
 tfjo:> nornrmn 8iJO3siJuO 
 
 Who ll sort em out and set em down, says I, 
 At s got a stiddy hand enough to try 
 To do em jestice thout a-foolin some, 
 And headin facts off when they want to come? 
 Who s got the lovin eye, and heart, and brain 
 To reco nize at nothin s made in vain 
 At the Good Bein made the bees and birds 
 And brutes first choice, and us-folks afterwards? 
 
 ITTO T A 
 
 , .. 
 What We want, as I sense it, in the line 
 
 O poetry is somepin Yours and Mine 
 
 Somepin with live stock in it, and out-doors, 
 
 And old crick -bottoms, snags, and sycamores : 
 
 Putt weeds in pizen-vines, and underbresh, 
 
 As well as johnny-jump-ups, all so fresh 
 
 And sassy-like ! and groun -squir ls, yes, and "We," 
 
 As sayin is, "We, Us and Company!" 
 
 361 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Putt in old Nature s sermonts, them s the best, 
 
 And casion ly hang up a hornets nest 
 
 At boys at s run away from school can git 
 
 At handy-like and let em tackle it ! 
 
 Let us be wrought on, of a truth, to feel 
 
 Our proneness fer to hurt more than we heal, 
 
 In ministratin to our vain delights 
 
 Fergittin even insec s has their rights! 
 
 No "Ladies Amaranth," ner "Treasury" book 
 
 Ner "Night Thoughts," nuther ner no "Lally Rook" ! 
 
 We want some poetry at s to Our taste, 
 
 Made out o truck at s jes a-goin to waste 
 
 Cause smart folks thinks it s altogether too 
 
 Outrageous common cept fer me and you ! 
 
 Which goes to argy, all sich poetry 
 
 Is bliged to rest its hopes on You and Me. 
 
 196 Nothin to Say 
 
 NOTHIN to say, my daughter! Nothin at all to say! 
 Gyrls that s in love, I ve noticed, giner ly has their 
 
 way! 
 
 Yer mother did, afore you, when her folks objected to me 
 Yit here I am and here you air ! and yer mother where is 
 she? 
 
 You look lots like yer mother : purty much same in size ; 
 And about the same complected ; and favor about the eyes : 
 Like her, too, about livin here, because she couldn t stay ; 
 It ll most seem like you was dead like her! but I hain t 
 got nothin to say! 
 
 362 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 She left you her little Bible writ yer name acrost the 
 
 page 
 
 And left her ear-bobs fer you, ef ever you come of age ; 
 I ve alluz kep em and gyuarded em, but ef yer goin 
 
 away 
 Nothin to say, my daughter ! Nothin at all to say ! 
 
 You don t rickollect her, I reckon ? No ; you wasn t a year 
 
 old then ! 
 And now yer how old air you? W y, child, not "twenty"! 
 
 When? 
 And yer nex birthday s in Aprile? and you want to git 
 
 married that day? 
 I wisht yer mother was livin ! but I hain t got nothin to 
 
 say! 
 
 Twenty year ! and as good a gyrl as parent ever found ! 
 There s a straw ketched on to yer dress there I ll bresh it 
 
 off turn round. 
 
 (Her mother was jes twenty when us two run away.) 
 Nothin to say, my daughter ! Nothin at all to say ! 
 
 The Absence of Little Wesley 
 
 SENCE little Wesley went, the place seems all so 
 strange and still 
 W y, I miss his yell o "Gran pap !" as I d miss the whip 
 
 perwill ! 
 
 And to think I ust to scold him fer his everlastin noise, 
 When I on y rickollect him as the best o little boys ! 
 
 363 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I wisht a hunderd times a day at he d come trompin* in, 
 And all the noise he ever made was twic t as loud ag in ! 
 It u d seem like some soft music played on some fine in 
 strument, 
 
 Longside o this loud lonesomeness, sence little Wesley 
 went 1 
 
 Of course the clock don t tick no louder than it ust to do 
 Yit now they s times it pears like it u d bu st itse f in two ! 
 And let a rooster, suddent-like, crow som ers clos t around, 
 And seems s ef, mighty nigh it, it u d lift me off the 
 
 ground ! 
 And same with all the cattle when they bawl around the 
 
 bars, 
 
 In the red o* airly morning, er the dusk and dew and stars, 
 When the neighbers boys at passes never stop, but jes* 
 
 go on, 
 A-whistlin kind o to theirse v s sence little Wesley s 
 
 gone ! 
 
 And then, o nights, when Mother s settin up oncommon 
 
 late, 
 
 A-bilin pears er somepin , and I set and smoke and wait, 
 Tel the moon out through the winder don t look bigger n a 
 
 dime, 
 And things keeps gittin stiller stiller stiller all the 
 
 time, 
 
 I ve ketched myse f a-wishin like as I dumb on the cheer 
 To wind the clock, as I hev done fer more n fifty year 
 A-wishin at the time lied come fer us to go to bed, 
 With our last prayers, and our last tears, sence little Wes 
 ley s dead ! 
 
 364 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 198 At "The Literary 
 
 FOLKS in town, I reckon, thinks 
 They git all the fun they air 
 Runnin loose round! but, y jinks! 
 We* got fun, and fun to spare, 
 Right out here amongst the ash- 
 And oak-timber ever where ! 
 Some folks else kin cut a dash 
 Sides town-people, don t fergit ! 
 Specially in winter-time, 
 When they s snow, and roads is fit. 
 In them circumstances I m 
 Resig-nated to my lot 
 Which putts me in mind o what 
 
 S called "The Literary." 
 "IIR\ a oa Sbn5"%D x?riT 
 Us folks in the country sees 
 Lots o fun ! Take spellin -school ; 
 Er ole hoe-down jamborees; 
 Er revivals ; er ef you ll 
 Tackle taffy-pullin s you 
 Kin git fun, and quite a few! 
 Same with huskin s. But all these 
 Kind o frolics they hain t new 
 By a hunderd year er two, 
 Cipher on it as you please ! 
 But I ll tell you what I jest 
 Think walks over all the rest 
 Anyway it suits me best, 
 
 That s "The Literary." 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 First they started it " y gee !" 
 Thinks-says-I, "this settle-ment 
 S gittin too high-toned fer me !" 
 But when all begin to jine, 
 And I heerd Izory went, 
 I jest kind o . drapped in line, 
 Like you ve seen some sandy, thin, 
 Scrawny shoat putt fer the crick 
 Down some pig-trail through the thick 
 Spice-bresh, where the whole drove s been 
 Bout six weeks fore he gits in ! 
 "Can t tell nothin ," I-says-ee, 
 " Bout it tel you go and see 
 Their blame Literary 1" 
 
 Very first night I was there 
 I was p inted to be what 
 They call "Critic" so s a fair 
 And square jedgment could be got 
 On the pieces at was read, 
 And on the debate, "Which air 
 Most destructive element, 
 Fire er worter ?" Then they hed 
 Compositions on "Content," 
 "Death," and "Botany" ; and Tomps 
 He read one on "Dreenin Swamps" 
 I p nounced the boss, and said, 
 "So fur, at s the best thing read 
 In yer Literary !" 
 
 366 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Then they sung some tel I called 
 Order, and got back ag in 
 In the critic s cheer, and hauled 
 All o the p formers in : 
 Mandy Brizendine read one 
 I f ergit ; and Doc s was "Thought" ; 
 And Sarepty s, hern was "None 
 Air Denied at Knocks"; and Daut 
 Fayette Strawnse s little niece 
 She got up and spoke a piece : 
 Then Tzory she read hern 
 "Best thing in the whole concern," 
 I-says-ee ; "now le s adjourn 
 This-here Literary !" 
 
 They was some contendin yit 
 We broke up in harmony. 
 Road outside as white as grit, 
 And as slick as slick could be ! 
 I d fetched Zory in my sleigh, 
 And I had a heap to say, 
 Drivin back in fact, I driv 
 Way around the old north way, 
 Where the Daubenspeckses live. 
 Zory allus fore that night 
 Never peared to feel jest right 
 
 T ^7 
 
 In my company. You see, 
 On y thing on earth saved me 
 Was that "Literary" ! 
 
 ) mog TjriJtn-e is nov ifoj M *ia ?.& T JfT 
 iin m. nud ?, : won n r/if /9ff v/orl nov IbJ o f 
 
 367 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 h?Il3 1 bi -9mo2 ^mi VisrfJ no.dT 
 Dozvn to the Capital 
 
 I BE N down to the Capital at Washington, D. C, 
 Where Congerss meets and passes on the pensions ort 
 
 to be 
 
 Allowed to old one-legged chaps, like me, at sence the war 
 Don t wear their pants in pairs at all and yit how proud 
 we are! 
 
 Old Flukens, from our deestrick, jes turned in and tuck 
 
 and made 
 Me sta} with him whilse I was there; and longer at I 
 
 stayed 
 
 The more I kep* a-wantin jes to kind o git away, 
 And yit a-f eelin sociabler with Flukens ever day. 
 
 You see I d got the idy and I guess most folks agrees 
 At men as rich as him, you know, kin do jes what they 
 
 please ; 
 
 A man worth stacks o money, and a Congerssman and all, 
 And livin in a buildin bigger n Masonic Hall ! 
 
 Now mind, I m not a-faultin Fluke he made his money 
 square : 
 
 We both was Forty-niners, and both bu sted gittin there ; 
 
 I weakened and onwindlassed, and he stuck and stayed and 
 made 
 
 His millions ; don t know what I m worth untel my pen 
 sion s paid. 
 
 But I was goin to tell you er a-ruther goin to try 
 To tell you how he s livin now : gas burnin mighty nigh 
 
THE HOOSIKR BOOK 
 
 In ever* room about the house ; and ever night about, 
 Some blame reception goin on, and money goin out. 
 
 They s people there from all the world jes ever kind at 
 lives, 
 
 Injuns and all! and Senaters, and Ripresentatives ; 
 
 And girls, you know, jes dressed in gauze and roses I 
 declare, 
 
 And even old men shamblin round and a-waltzin with em 
 
 there ! 
 !vf p* Jair I Jfirfw l>nc rri 1 Jjjd// hii me I tJi^rfv/ ev/oii/I 
 
 And bands a-tootin circus-tunes, way in some other room 
 
 Jes chokin full o hothouse plants and pinies and per 
 fume ; 
 
 And fountains, squirtin stiddy all the time; and statutes, 
 made 
 
 Out o puore marble, peared-like, sneakin round there in 
 
 the shade. 
 ;?.ino lo sir! b-x>nq-<i^ifl ai^irfj t U;nJ\iVu> *t>i Us rtl" 
 
 And Fluke he coaxed and begged and pled with me to tak* 
 a hand 
 
 And sashay in amongst em crutch and all, you under 
 stand ; 
 
 But when I said how tired I was, and made fer open air, 
 
 He follered, and tel five o clock we set a-talkin there. 
 
 "My God!" says he Fluke says to me, "I m tireder n you; 
 Don t putt up yer tobacker tel you give a man a chew. 
 Set back a leetle f urder in the shadder that ll do ; 
 
 T x- J ^"H T A - J } S - 
 
 I m tireder n you, old man ; I m tireder n you. 
 
 369 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "You see that-air old dome/ says he, "humped up ag inst 
 
 the sky? 
 
 It s grand, first time you see it ; but it changes, by and by, 
 And then it stays jes thataway jes anchored high and dry 
 Betwixt the sky up yender and the achin of yer eye. 
 
 "Night s purty ; not so purty, though, as what it ust to be 
 When my first wife was livin . You remember her?" says 
 
 he. 
 
 I nodded-like, and Fluke went on, "I wonder now ef she 
 Knows where I am and what I am and what I ust to be ? 
 
 "That band in there! I ust to think at music couldn t 
 
 wear 
 
 A feller out the way it does ; but that ain t music there 
 That s jes a imitation, and like ever thing, I swear, 
 I hear, er see, er tetch, er taste, er tackle anywhere ! 
 
 "It s all jes artificial, this- ere high-priced life of ours; 
 The theory, it s sweet enough, tel it saps down and sours. 
 They s no home left, ner ties o home about it. By the 
 
 powers, 
 The whole thing s artificialer n artificial flowers ! 
 
 "And all I want, and could lay down and sob fer, is to 
 
 know 
 
 The homely things of homely life; fer instance, jes to go 
 And set down by the kitchen stove Lord ! that u d rest me 
 
 so, 
 Jes set there, like I ust to do, and laugh and joke, you 
 
 know. 
 
 370 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "Jes* set there, like I ust to do," says Fluke, a-startin in, 
 Peared-like, to say the whole thing over to hisse f ag in ; 
 Then stopped and turned, and kind o coughed, and stooped 
 
 and fumbled fer 
 Somepin o nuther in the grass I guess his handkercher. 
 
 Well, sence I m back from Washington, where I left Fluke 
 
 a-still 
 
 A-leggin fer me, heart and soul, on that-air pension bill, 
 I ve half-way struck the notion, when I think o wealth and 
 
 sich, 
 They s nothin much patheticker n jes a-bein rich! 
 
 200 The Old Man and Jim 
 
 OLD man never had much to say 
 Ceptin to Jim, 
 And Jim was the wildest boy he had 
 
 And the old man jes wrapped up in him! 
 Never heerd him speak but once 
 Er twice in my life, and first time was 
 When the army broke out, and Jim he went, 
 The old man backin him, fer three months ; 
 And all at I heerd the old man say 
 Was, jes as we turned to start away, 
 
 (\ir 11 1 i T- 
 
 Well, good-by, Jim : 
 
 rn i t r ,r 
 
 Take keer of yourself 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Teared-like, he was more satisfied 
 
 Jes lookin at Jim 
 And likin him all to hisse f-like, see? 
 
 Cause he was jes wrapped up in him ! 
 And over and over I mind the day 
 The old man come and stood round in the wa\ 
 While we was drillin , a-watchin Jim 
 And down at the deepo a-heerin him say, 
 
 "Well, good-by, Jim : 
 Take keer of yourse f !" 
 
 Never was nothin about the farm 
 
 Disting ished Jim; 
 Neighbors all ust to wonder why 
 
 The old man peared wrapped up in him : 
 But when Cap. Biggler he writ back 
 At Jim was the bravest boy we had 
 In the whole dern rigiment, white er black, 
 And his fightin good as his farmin bad 
 At he had led, with a bullet clean 
 Bored through his thigh, and carried the flag 
 Through the bloodiest battle you ever seen, 
 The old man wound up a letter to him 
 At Cap. read to us, at said : "Tell Jim 
 
 Good-by, 
 
 And take keer of hisse f." 
 
 Jim come home jes long enough 
 
 To take the whim 
 At he d like to go back in the calvery 
 
 And the old man jes wrapped up in him! 
 
 372 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Jim lowed at he d had sich luck afore, 
 Guessed he d tackle her three years more. 
 And the old man give him a colt he d raised. 
 And follered him over to Camp Ben Wade, 
 And laid around fer a week er so, 
 Watchin Jim on dress-parade 
 Tel finally he rid away, 
 And last he heerd was the old man say, 
 "Well, good-by, Jim : 
 Take keer of yourse f !" 
 
 Tuk the papers, the old man did, 
 
 A-watchin fer Jim 
 Fully believin he d make his mark 
 
 Some way jes wrapped up in him! 
 And many a time the word Vd come 
 At stirred him up like the tap of a drum 
 At Petersburg, fer instunce, where 
 Jim rid right into their cannons there, 
 And tuk em, and p inted em t other way, 
 And socked it home to the boys in gray 
 As they scooted fer timber, and on and on 
 Jim a lieutenant, and one arm gone, 
 And the old man s words in his mind all day, 
 
 "Well, good-by, Jim : 
 Take keer of yourse f !" 
 
 Think of a private, now, perhaps, 
 
 We ll say like Jim, 
 At s dumb clean up to the shoulder-straps 
 
 And the old man jes wrapped up in him! 
 
 373 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 
 Think of him with the war plum through^ 
 And the glorious old Red-White-and-Blue 
 A-laughin the news down over Jim, 
 And the old man, bendin over him 
 The surgeon turnin away with tears 
 At hadn t leaked f er years and years, 
 As the hand of the dyin boy clung to 
 His father s, the old voice in his ears, 
 "Well, good-by, Jim : 
 Take keer of yourse f 1" 
 
 2or Thoughts on the Late War 
 
 I WAS for Union you, ag in it. 
 Tears like, to me, each side was winner. 
 Lookin at now and all at s in it. 
 
 Le s go to dinner. 
 Trr-.ttcrtyiK no bin; .tofimij i^Jp^Jocpa ^?fu zA 
 
 Le s kind o jes set down together 
 And do some pardnership forgittin 
 Talk, say, for instunce, bout the weather, 
 Or somepin fittin . 
 
 The war, you know, s all done and ended, 
 And ain t changed no p ints o the compass ; 
 Both North and South the health s jes splendid 
 As fore the rumpus. 
 
 374 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The old farms and the old plantations 
 Still ockipies the r old positions. 
 Le s git back to old situations 
 And old ambitions. 
 
 Le s let up on this blame , infernal 
 Tongue-lashin and lap-jacket vauntin , 
 And git back home to the eternal 
 Ca m we re a-wantin . 
 
 Peace kind o sort o suits my diet 
 When women does my cookin for me; 
 Ther wasn t overly much pie et 
 Dunn the army. 
 
 202 The Old Band 
 
 IT S mighty good to git back to the old town, shore, 
 Considerin I ve be n away twenty year and more. 
 Sence I moved then to Kansas, of course I see a change 
 A-comin back, and notice things that s new to me and 
 
 strange ; 
 
 Especially at evening when yer new band-fellers meet, 
 In fancy uniforms and all, and play out on the street 
 . . . What s come of old Bill Lindsey and the Saxhorn 
 fellers say? 
 
 I want to hear the old band play. 
 
 375 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 What s come of Eastman, and Nat Snow? And where s 
 
 War Barnett at? 
 And Nate and Bony Meek; Bill Hart; Tom Richa son and 
 
 that 
 Air brother of him played the drum as twic t as big as 
 
 Jim ; 
 And old Hi Kerns, the carpenter say, what s become o 
 
 him? 
 I make no doubt yer new band now s a compctenter 
 
 band) 
 And plays their music more by note than what they play 
 
 by hand, 
 
 And stylisher and grander tunes; but somehow any 
 way, 
 
 I want to hear the old band play. 
 
 Sich tunes as "John Brown s Body" and "Sweet Alice." 
 
 don t you know ; 
 And "The Camels Is A-Comin ," and "John Anderson, 
 
 My Jo" ; 
 And a dozent others of em "Number Nine" and 
 
 "Number Leven" 
 Was tavo-rites that fairly made a feller dream o 
 
 Heaven. 
 And when the boys u d saranade, I ve laid so still in 
 
 bed 
 
 I ve even heerd the locus -blossoms droppin on the shed 
 When "Lily Dale," er "Hazel Dell," had sobbed and died 
 
 away 
 
 . . . I want to hear the old band play. 
 
 376 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Ver new band ma by beats it, but the old band s what I 
 
 said 
 It allus peared to kind o chord with somepin in my 
 
 head; 
 And, whilse I m no musicianer, when my blame* eyes 
 
 is jes 
 Nigh drownded out, and Mem ry squares her jaws and 
 
 sort o says 
 
 She won t ner never will fergit, I want to jes turn in 
 And take and light right out o here and git back West 
 
 ag in 
 And stay there, when I git there, where I never haf to 
 
 say 
 
 I want to hear the old band play. 
 
 2O$ "Last Christmas Was a Year 
 
 Ago" 
 ,To frjv/uiul -afl gequ 7:?T\o oT 
 
 THE OLD LADY SPEAKS 
 
 L^-ST Christmas was a year ago, 
 Says I to David, I-says-I, 
 "We re goin to morning service, so 
 You hitch up right away : I ll try 
 To tell the girls jes what to do 
 Per dinner. We ll be back by two." 
 I didn t wait to hear what he 
 Would more n like say back to me, 
 But banged the stable door and flev/ 
 Back to the house, jes plumb chilled through. 
 377 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Cold! Wooh! how cold it was ! My-oh! 
 
 Frost flyin , and the air, you know, 
 
 "Jes sharp enough," heerd David swear, 
 
 "To shave a man and cut his hair !" 
 
 And blow and blow ! and snow and snow ! 
 
 Where it had drifted long the fence 
 
 And crost the road, some places, though, 
 
 Jes swep clean to the gravel, so 
 
 The goin was as bad fer sleighs 
 
 As twas fer wagons, and both ways, 
 
 Twixt snow-drifts and the bare ground, I ve 
 
 Jes wundered we got through alive ; 
 
 I hain t saw nothin , fore er sence, 
 
 At beat it anywheres, I know 
 
 Last Christmas was a year ago. 
 
 And David said, as we set out, 
 
 At Christmas services was bout 
 
 As cold and wuthless kind o love 
 
 To offer up as he knowed of ; 
 
 And as fer him, he railly thought 
 
 At the Good Bein up above 
 
 Would think more of us as He ought 
 
 A-stayin* home on sich a day, 
 
 And thankin of Him thataway! 
 
 And jawed on, in an undertone, 
 
 Bout leayin Lide and Jane alone 
 
 There on the place, and me not there 
 
 To oversee em, and p pare 
 
 The stuffin fer the turkey, and 
 
 The sass and all, you understand. 
 
 378 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I ve allus managed David by 
 
 Jes sayin no thin . That was why 
 
 He d chased Lide s beau away cause Lide 
 
 She d allus take up Perry s side 
 
 When David tackled him ; and so, 
 
 Last Christmas was a year ago, 
 
 Er ruther, bout a u eek afore, 
 
 David and Perry d quarr l d about 
 
 Some torn-fool argyment, you know, 
 
 And Pap told him to "Jes git out 
 
 O there, and not to come no more, 
 
 And, when he went, to shet the door !" 
 
 And as he passed the winder, we 
 
 Saw Perry, white as white could be, 
 
 March past, onhitch his hoss, and light 
 
 A see-gyar, and lope out o sight. 
 
 Then Lide she come to me and cried ! 
 
 And I said nothin* was no need. 
 
 And yit, you know, that man jes got 
 
 Right out o there s ef he d be n shot, 
 
 P tendin he must go and feed 
 
 The stock er somepin . Then I tried 
 
 To git the pore girl pacified. 
 
 But, gittin* back to where was we? 
 Oh, yes ! where David lectered me 
 All way to meetin , high and low, 
 Last Christmas was a year ago : 
 Fer all the awful cold, they was 
 A fair attendunce ; mostly, though, 
 The crowd was round the stoves, you see, 
 Thawin their heels and scrougin us. 
 
 379 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Ef t adn t be n fer the old Squire 
 
 Givin his seat to us, as in 
 
 We stomped, a-fairly perishin , 
 
 And David could a got no fire, 
 
 He d jes a drapped there in his tracks: 
 
 And Squire, as I was tryin to yit 
 
 Make room fer him, says, "No ; the f ac s 
 
 Is, / got to git up and git 
 
 Ithout no preachin . Jes got word 
 
 Trial fer life can t be deferred !" 
 
 And out he putt ! 
 
 And all way through 
 
 The sermont and a long one, too 
 I couldn t he p but think o Squire 
 And us changed round so, and admire 
 His gintle ways, to give his warm 
 Bench up, and have to face the storm. 
 And when I noticed David he 
 Was needin jabbin I thought best 
 To kind o sort o let him rest : 
 Peared-like he slep so peacefully ! 
 And then I thought o home, and how 
 And what the gyrls was doin now, 
 And kind o prayed, way in my breast, 
 And breshed away a tear er two 
 As David waked, and church was through. 
 
 By time we d "howdyed" round and shuck 
 Hands with neighbers, must a tuck 
 
 ,<M lliyifOTja bttfi frl-rHl "ii-j Jl fllV/fillT 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 A half hour longer : ever one 
 
 A-sayin "Christmas gift!" afore 
 
 David er me so we got none ! 
 
 But David warmed up, more and more, 
 
 And got so jokey-like, and had 
 
 His sperits up, and peared so glad, 
 
 I whispered to him, "S pose you ast 
 
 A passel of em come and eat 
 
 Their dinners with us. Gyrls s got 
 
 A full-and-plenty fer the lot 
 
 And all their kin !" So David passed 
 
 The invite round : and ever seat 
 
 In ever wagon-bed and sleigh 
 
 Was jes packed, as we rode away, 
 
 The young folks, mil d er so along, 
 
 A-strikin up a sleighin -song, 
 
 Tel David laughed and yelled, you know, 
 
 And jes whirped up and sent the snow 
 
 And gravel flyin thick and fast 
 
 Last Christmas was a year ago. 
 
 W y, that-air seven-mil d ja nt we come 
 
 Jes seven mil d scant from church to home 
 
 It didn t pear, that day, to be 
 
 Much furder railly n bout three! 
 
 But I was purty squeamish by 
 The time home hove in sight and I 
 See two vehickles standin there 
 Already. So says I, "Prepare!" 
 All to myse f. And presently 
 David he sobered ; and says he, 
 
 " G>}$ n} A I .rnrri >koi ni> -jjH i. -l 
 
 381 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "Hain t that-air Squire Hanch s old 
 
 Buggy," he says, "and claybank mare?" 
 
 Says I, "Le s git in out the cold 
 
 Your company s nigh bout froze!" He says, 
 
 "Whose sleigh s that-air, a-standin there?" 
 
 Says I, "It s no odds zvhose you jes 
 
 Drive to the house and let us out, 
 
 Cause we re jes freezin , nigh about!" 
 
 Well, David swung up to the door, 
 
 And out we piled. And first I heerd 
 
 Jane s voice, then Lide s, I thought afore 
 
 I reached that gyrl I d jes die, shore; 
 
 And when I reached her, wouldn t keered 
 
 Much ef I had, I was so glad, 
 
 A-kissin her through my green veil, 
 
 And jes excitin her so bad, 
 
 At she broke down herse f and Jane, 
 
 She cried and we all hugged again. 
 
 And David? David jes turned pale! 
 
 Looked at the gyrls, and then at me, 
 
 Then at the open door and then 
 
 "Is old Squire Hanch in there?" says he. 
 
 The old Squire suddently stood in 
 
 The doorway, with a sneakin grin. 
 
 "Is Perry Anders in there, too?" 
 
 Says David, limberin all through, 
 
 As Lide and me both grabbed him, and 
 
 Perry stepped out and waved his hand 
 
 And says, "Yes, Pap." And David jes 
 
 Stooped and kissed Lide, and says, "I guess 
 
 Yer mother s much to blame as you. 
 
 Ef she kin resk him, I kin too !" 
 
 382 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The dinner we had then hain t no 
 
 Bit better n the one to-day 
 
 At we ll have fer em. Hear some sleigh 
 
 A-jinglin now. David, fer me, 
 
 I wish you d jes go out and see 
 
 Ef they re in sight yit. It jes does 
 
 Me good to think, in times like these, 
 
 Lide s done so well. And David, he s 
 
 More tractabler n what he was 
 
 Last Christmas was a year ago. 
 
 204 Coin to the Fair 
 
 OLD STYLE 
 
 WHEN Me an my Ma an Pa went to the Fair 
 Ma borried Mizz Rollins-uz rigg to go there, 
 Cause our buggy s new, an Ma says, "Mercy-sake ! 
 It wouldn t hold half the folks she s go to take !" 
 An she took Marindy, an Jane s twins, an Jo, 
 An Aunty Van Meters-uz girls an old Slo 
 Magee, at s so fat, come a-scrougin in there, 
 When me an my Ma an Pa went to the Fair ! 
 
 ?,O^ 
 
 The road s full o loads-full ist ready to bu st, 
 
 An all hot, an smokin an chokin with dust ; 
 
 The Wolffs an their wagon, an Brizentines, too 
 
 An horses ist r ared when the toot-cars come through ! 
 
 383 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An way from fur off we could hear the band play, 
 An peoples all there u d ist whoop an hooray ! 
 An I stood on the dash-board, an Pa boost me there 
 Most high as the fence, when we went to the Fair ! 
 
 An when we uz there an inside, we could see 
 Wher the flag s on a pole wher a show s go to be ; 
 An boys up in trees, an the grea -big balloon 
 At didn t goned up a-tall, all afternoon ! 
 An a man in the crowd there gived money away 
 An Pa says "he d ruther earn his by the day !" 
 An he gim-me some, an says "ain t nothin there 
 Too good f er his boy," when we went to the Fair ! 
 
 Wisht The Raggedy Man wuz there, too ! but he says, 
 "Don t talk fairs to me, child ! I went to one ; yes, 
 An they wuz a swing there ye rode an I rode, 
 An a thing-um-a-jing at ye bio wed an I bio wed ; 
 An they wuz a game at ye played an I played, 
 An a hitch in the same wher ye paid an I paid ; 
 An* they wuz two bad to one good peoples there 
 Like you an your Pa an Ma went to the Fair !" 
 
 Fessler s Bees 
 
 bout yer bees," says Ike, 
 Speakin slow and ser ous-like, 
 "D f ever tell you bout old Bee 
 Old Bee Fessler?" Ike-says-he! 
 
 384 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "Might call him a bee-expert, 
 When it come to handlin bees, 
 Roll the sleeves up of his shirt 
 And wade in amongst the trees 
 Where a swarm Vd settle, and 
 Blam est man on top of dirt! 
 Rake em with his naked hand 
 Right back in the hive ag in, 
 Jes as easy as you please ! 
 Nary bte at split the breeze 
 Ever jabbed a stinger in 
 Old Bee Fessler jes in fun, 
 Er in airnest nary one ! 
 Couldn t agg one on to, nuther, 
 Ary one way er the other ! 
 
 "Old Bee Fessler," Ike says-he, 
 
 "Made a speshyality 
 
 Jes o bees ; and built a shed 
 
 Len th about a half a mild ! 
 
 Had about a thousan head 
 
 O hives, I reckon tame and wild ! 
 
 Durndest buzzin ever wuz 
 
 Wuss n telegraph-poles does 
 
 When they re sockin home the news 
 
 Tight as they kin let er loose ! 
 
 Visitors rag out and come 
 
 Clean from town to hear em hum, 
 
 And stop at the kivered bridge ; 
 
 But wuz some u d cross the ridge 
 
 Allus, and go clos ter so s 
 
 They could see em hum, I s pose ! 
 
 385 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Peared-like strangers down that track 
 Allus met folks comin back 
 Lookin extry fat and hearty 
 Fer a city picnic party ! 
 
 " Fore he went to Floridy, 
 Old Bee Fessler," Ike says-he 
 "Old Bee* Fessler couldn t bide 
 Childern on his place," says Ike. 
 "Yit, fer all, they d climb inside 
 And tromp round there, keerless-like, 
 In their bare feet. Bee could tell 
 Ev ry town-boy by his yell 
 So s at when they bounced the fence, 
 Didn t make no difference! 
 He d jes* git down on one knee 
 In the grass and pat the bee ! 
 And, ef t adn t stayed stuck in, 
 Fess u d set the sting ag in, 
 N potter off, and wait around 
 Fer the old famillyer sound. 
 Allus boys there, more or less, 
 Scootin round the premises ! 
 When the buckwheat wuz in bloom, 
 Lawzy ! how them bees u d boom 
 Round the boys at crossed that way 
 Fer the crick on Saturday ! 
 Never seemed to me su prisin 
 At the sting o bees uz p izin ! 
 
 " Fore he went to Floridy," 
 Ike says, "nothin* bout a bee 
 
 386 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 At old Fessler didn t know, 
 
 W y, it jes peared-like at he 
 
 Knowed their language, high and low : 
 
 Claimed he told jes by their buzz 
 
 What their wants and wishes wuz ! 
 
 Peek in them-air little holes 
 
 Round the porches o the hive 
 
 Drat their pesky little souls ! 
 
 Could a skinned the man alive ! 
 
 Bore right in there with his thumb, 
 
 And squat down and scrape the gum 
 
 Outen ev ry hole, and blow 
 
 N bresh the crumbs off, don t you know ! 
 
 Take the roof off, and slide back 
 
 Them-air glass concerns they pack 
 
 Full o honey, and jes lean 
 
 N grabble mongst em f er the queen 1 
 
 Fetch her out and show you to her 
 
 Jes , you might say, interview her ! 
 
 "Year er two," says Ike, says-he, 
 " Fore he went to Floridy, 
 Fessler struck the theory, 
 Honey was the same as love 
 You could make it day and night : 
 Said them bees o his could be 
 Got jes twic t the work out of 
 Ef a feller managed right. 
 He contended ef bees found 
 Blossoms all the year around, 
 He could git em down at once 
 To work all the winter months 
 
 387 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Same as summer. So, one fall, 
 When their summer s work wtiz done, 
 Bee turns in and robs em all ; 
 Loads the hives then, one by one, 
 On the cyars, and lowed he d see 
 Ef bees loafed in Floridy! 
 Said he bet he d know the reason 
 Ef his didn t work that season ! 
 
 "And," says Ike, "it s jes ," says-he, 
 "Like old Fessler says to me : 
 Any man kin fool a bee, 
 Git him down in Floridy ! 
 Teared at fust, as old Bee said, 
 Fer to kind o turn their head 
 Fer a spell ; but, bless you ! they 
 Didn t lose a half a day 
 Altogether ! Jes lit in 
 Them-air tropics, and them-air 
 Cacktusses a-ripen-nirr", 
 N magnolyers, and sweet-peas, 
 N simmon and pineapple trees, 
 J N ripe bananers, here and there, 
 N dates a-danglin in the breeze, 
 N figs and reezins ev rywhere, 
 All waitin jes fer Fessler s bees! 
 N Fessler s bees, with gaumy wings, 
 A-gittin down and who o pin things ! 
 Fessler kind o overseein 
 Em, and sort o hee-o-heein ! 
 
 " Fore he went to Floridy, 
 Old Bee Fessler," Ike says-he, 
 388 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "Wuzn t counted, jes to say, 
 Mean er or n ry anyway ; 
 On y ev ry tarnel dime 
 At u d pass him on the road 
 He d ketch up with, ev ry time ; 
 And no mortal ever knowed 
 Him to spend a copper cent 
 Less on some fool- speriment 
 With them bees like that-un he 
 Played on em in Floridy. 
 Fess , of course, he tuck his ease, 
 But twuz bilious on the bees ! 
 Sweat, you know, u d jes stand out 
 On their forreds pant and groan, 
 And grunt round and limp about ! 
 And old Bee, o course, a-knowin 
 Twuzn t no fair shake to play 
 On them pore dumb insecks, ner 
 To abuse em thataway. 
 Bees has rights, I m here to say, 
 And that s all they ast him f er ! 
 Man as mean as that, jes pears, 
 Could V worked bees on the sheers ! 
 Cleared big money well, I guess, 
 Bee shipped honey, more er less, 
 Into ev ry state, perhaps, 
 Ever putt down in the maps ! 
 
 "But by time he fetched em back 
 In the spring ag in," says Ike, 
 "They wuz actin s picious-like : 
 Though they peared to lost the track 
 
 389 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 O ev rything they saw er heard, 
 They d lay round the porch, and gap* 
 At their shadders in the sun, 
 Do-less like, ontel some bird 
 Suddently u d maybe drap 
 In a bloomin churry tree, 
 Twitterin a tune at run 
 In their minds f amiliously ! 
 They d revive up, kind o , then, 
 Like they argied : Well, it s be n 
 The most longest summer we 
 Ever saw er want to see ! 
 Must be right, though, er old "Bee" 
 U d notify us! they says-ee; 
 And they d sort o square their chin 
 And git down to work ag in 
 Moanin round their honey-makin , 
 Kind o like their head was achin . 
 Tetchin fer to see how they 
 Trusted Fessler thataway 
 Him a-lazin round, and smirkin 
 To hisse f to see em workin ! 
 wife -*fi rio iwHl &9#ww V Mr/,/ > 
 "But old Bee/ " says Ike, says-he 
 "Now where is he ? Where s he gone ? 
 Where s the head he helt so free? 
 Where s his pride and vanity? 
 What s his hopes a-restin on? 
 Never knowed a man," says Ike, 
 "Take advantage of a bee, 
 At affliction didn t strike 
 Round in that vicinity ! 
 
 390 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Sinners allus suffers some, 
 
 And old Fessler s reck nin* come ! 
 
 That-air man to-day is jes 
 
 Like the grass at Scriptur says 
 
 Cometh up, and then turns in 
 
 And jes gits cut down ag in ! 
 
 Old Bee Fessler," Ike says-he, 
 
 "Says, last fall, says he to me 
 
 Ike, says he, them bees has jes 
 
 Ciphered out my or n riness ! 
 
 Nary bee in ary swarm 
 
 On the whole endurin farm 
 
 Won t have nothin more to do 
 
 With a man as mean as I ve 
 
 Be n to them, last year er two ! 
 
 Nary bee in ary hive 
 
 But ll turn his face away, 
 
 Like they ort, whenever they 
 
 Hear my footprints drawin nigh !* 
 
 And old Bee, he d sort o shy 
 
 Round oiieasy in his cheer, 
 
 Wipe his eyes, and yit the sap, 
 
 Spite o all, u d haf to drap, 
 
 As he wound up : Wouldn t keer 
 
 Quite so much ef they d jes light 
 
 In and settle things up right, 
 
 Like they ort ; but blame the thing ! 
 
 Pears-like they won t even sting! 
 
 Pepper me, the way I felt, 
 
 And I d thank em, ev ry welt ! 
 
 And as miz able and mean 
 
 As Bee looked, ef you d a seen 
 
 391 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Them-air hungry eyes," says Ike, 
 "You d fergive him, more n like. 
 
 "Wisht you had a knowed old Bee* 
 Fore he went to Floridy!" 
 
 206 "Tmdin Joe" 
 
 I M one o these cur ous kind o* chaps 
 You think you know when you don t, perhaps ! 
 I hain t no fool ner I don t p tend 
 To be so smart I could rickommend 
 Myself f er a conger ssman, my friend ! 
 But I m kind o betwixt-and-between, you know, 
 One o these fellers at folks calls "slow." 
 And I ll say jest here I m kind o queer 
 Regardin things at I see and hear, 
 Per I m thick o hear in sometimes, and 
 It s hard to git me to understand ; 
 But other times it hain t, you bet ! 
 Per I don t sleep with both eyes shet ! 
 
 I ve swapped a power in stock, and so 
 The neighbers calls me "Tradin* Joe" 
 And I m goin to tell you bout a trade, 
 And one o the best I ever made : 
 
 Folks has gone so fur s to say 
 At I m well fixed, in a worldly way, 
 And be in so, and a widower, 
 It s not su prisin , as you ll infer, 
 
 .392 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I m purty handy among the sect 
 Widders especially, rickollect! 
 And I won t deny that along o late 
 I ve hankered a heap fer the married state- 
 But some way o nother the longer we wait 
 The harder it is to discover a mate. 
 
 Marshall Thomas, a friend o mine, 
 
 Doin some in the tradin line, 
 
 But a most too young to know it all 
 
 On y at picnics er some ball! 
 
 Says to me, in a banterin* way, 
 
 As we was a-loaclin stock one day, 
 
 "You re a-huntin a wife, and I want you to see 
 
 My girl s mother, at Kankakee ! 
 
 She hain t over forty good-lookin and spry, 
 
 And jest the woman to fill your eye! 
 
 And I m a-goin there Sund y, and now," says he, 
 
 "I want to take you along with me; 
 
 And you marry her, and," he says, "by shaw ! 
 
 You ll hev me fer yer son-in-law !" 
 
 I studied a while, and says I, "Well, I ll 
 
 First have to see ef she suits my style; 
 
 And ef she does, you kin bet your life 
 
 Your mother-in-law will be my wife !" 
 
 Well, Sund y come ; and I fixed up some- 
 Putt on a collar I did, by gum ! 
 Got down my "plug," and my satin vest 
 (You wouldn t know me to see me dressed ! 
 But any one knows ef you got the clothes 
 You kin go in the crowd wher the best of em goes !) 
 
 393 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And I greeced my boots, and combed my hair 
 Keerfully over the bald place there ; 
 And Marshall Thomas and me that day 
 Eat our dinners with Widder Gray 
 And her girl Han ! . . -V i: * 
 
 Well, jest a glance 
 O the widder s smilin countenance, 
 A-cuttin up chicken and big pot-pies, 
 Would make a man hungry in Paradise ! 
 And passin p serves and jelly and cake 
 At would make an angel s appetite ache! 
 Pourin out coffee as yaller as gold 
 Twic t as much as the cup could hold 
 La ! it was rich ! And then she d say, 
 "Take some o this!" in her coaxin way, 
 Tel ef I d been a hoss I d a foundered, shore, 
 And jest dropped dead on her white-oak floor! 
 
 Well, the way I talked would a done you good, 
 Ef you d a been there to a understood ; 
 Tel I noticed Hanner and Marshall, they 
 Was a-noticin* me in a cur ous way ; 
 So I says to myse f, says I, "Now, Joe, 
 The best thing fer you is to jest go slow !" 
 And I simmered down, and let them do 
 The bulk o the talkin the evening through. 
 
 And Marshall was still in a talkative gait 
 When we left, that evening tolable late. 
 "How do you like her?" he says to me; 
 Says I, "She suits, to a t-y-Tee !" 
 
 394 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And then I ast how matters stood 
 With him in the opposite neighberhood? 
 "Bully !" he says ; "I ruther guess 
 I ll finally git her to say the *y es - 
 I named it to her to-night, and she 
 Kind o smiled, and said she d see 
 And that s a purty good sign !" says he : 
 "Yes," says I, "you re ahead o* me!" 
 And then he laughed, and said, "Go in!" 
 And patted me on the shoulder ag in. 
 
 Well, ever sense then I ve been ridin a good 
 Deal through the Kankakee neighberhood ; 
 And I make it convenient sometimes to stop 
 And hitch a few minutes, and kind o drop 
 In at the widder s, and talk o the crop 
 And one thing o nother. And week afore last 
 The notion struck me, as I drove past, 
 I d stop at the place and state my case 
 Might as well do it at first as last ! 
 
 I felt first-rate ; so I hitched at the gate, 
 
 And went up to the house ; and, strange to relate, 
 
 Marshall Thomas had dropped in, too. 
 
 "Glad to see you, sir, how do you do ?" 
 
 He says, says he ! Well it sounded queer; 
 
 And when Han told me to take a cheer, 
 
 Marshall got up and putt out o the room 
 
 And motioned his hand fer the widder to come. 
 
 I didn t say nothin fer quite a spell, 
 
 But thinks I to myse f, "There s a dog in the well !" 
 
 395 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And Han she smiled so cur ous at me 
 
 Says I, "What s up ?" And she says, says she, 
 
 "Marshall s been at me to marry ag in, 
 
 And I told him no, jest as you come in. 5 
 
 Well, somepin o nother in that girl s voice 
 
 Says to me, "Joseph, here s your choice !" 
 
 And another minute her guileless breast 
 
 Was lovin ly throbbin ag in my vest ! 
 
 And then I kissed her, and heerd a smack 
 
 Come like a echo, a-flutterin back, 
 
 And we looked around, and in full view 
 
 Marshall was kissin the widder, too ! 
 
 Well, we all of us laughed, in our glad su prise, 
 
 Tel the tears come a-streamin out of our eyes ! 
 
 And when Marsh said " Twas the squarest trade 
 
 That ever me and him had made," 
 
 We both shuck hands, y jucks ! and swore 
 
 We d stick together ferevermore. 
 
 And old Squire Chipman tuck us the trip : 
 
 And Marshall and me s in pardnership ! 
 
 207 Uncle Williams Picture 
 --.o<rt ,nf fcKjqbib f>nr! iwmoA Y 
 
 UNCLE WILLIAM, last July, 
 Had his picture took. 
 "Have it done, of course," says I, 
 
 "Jes* the way you look !" 
 (All dressed up, he was, fer the 
 Barbecue and jubilee 
 The old settlers helt.) So he 
 Last he had it took. 
 
 396 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Lide she d coaxed and begged and pled, 
 
 Sence her mother went ; 
 But he d cough and shake his head 
 
 At all argyment; 
 Mebby clear his th oat and say, 
 "What s my likeness mount to, hey, 
 Now with Mother gone away 
 
 From us, like she went?" 
 
 But we projicked round, tel we 
 
 Got it figgered down 
 How we d git him, Lide and me, 
 
 Drivin into town; 
 
 Bragged how well he looked and fleshec 
 Up around the face, and freshed 
 With the morning air ; and breshed 
 
 His coat-collar down. 
 
 All so providential ! W y, 
 
 Now he s dead and gone, 
 Picture pears so lifelike I 
 
 Want to start him on 
 Them old tales he ust to tell, 
 And old talks so sociable, 
 And old songs he sung so well 
 
 Fore his voice was gone ! 
 
 Face is sad to Lide, and they s 
 
 Sorrow in the eyes 
 Kisses it sometimes, and lays 
 
 It away and cries. 
 
 397 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I smooth down her hair, and low 
 He is happy, anyhow, 
 Bein there with Mother now, 
 Smile, and wipe my eyes. 
 
 208 Squire Hawkins s Story 
 
 I HAIN T no hand at teilin tales, 
 Er spinnin yarns, as the sailors say; 
 Someway o nother, language fails 
 To slide fer me in the oily way 
 That lawyers has ; and I wisht it would, 
 Fer I ve got somepin that I call good ; 
 But bein only a country squire, 
 I ve learned to listen and admire, 
 Ruther pref errin to be addressed 
 Than talk myse f but I ll do my best : 
 no miff .mta ot )ni>7/ 
 Old Jeff Thompson well, I ll say, 
 Was the clos test man I ever saw ! 
 Rich as cream, but the poorest pay, 
 And the meanest man to work fer La ! 
 I ve knowed that man to work one "hand"- 
 Fer little er nothin , you understand 
 From four o clock in the morning light 
 Tel eight and nine o clock at night, 
 And then find fault with his appetite ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 He d drive all over the neighberhood 
 To miss the place where a toll-gate stood, 
 And slip in town, by some old road 
 That no two men in the county knowed, 
 With a jag o wood, and a sack o wheat, 
 That wouldn t burn and you couldn t eat 1 
 And the trades he d make, 11 I jest de-clare, 
 Was enough to make a preacher swear ! 
 And then he d hitch, and hang about 
 Tel the lights in the toll-gate was blowed out, 
 And then the turnpike he d turn in 
 And sneak his way back home ag in 1 
 
 Some folks hint, and I make no doubt, 
 That that s what wore his old wife out 
 Toilin away from day to day 
 And year to year, through heat and cold, 
 Uncomplainin the same old way 
 The martyrs died in the days of old ; 
 And a-clingin , too, as the martyrs done, 
 To one fixed faith, and her only one, 
 Little Patience, the sweetest child 
 That ever wept unrickonciled, 
 Er felt the pain and the ache and sting 
 That only a mother s death can bring. 
 
 Patience Thompson ! I think that name 
 Must a come from a power above, 
 Fer it seemed to fit her jest the same 
 As a gaiter would, er a fine kid glove I 
 And to see that girl, with all the care 
 Of the household on her I de-clare 
 
 399 
 
THE IIOOSIER BOOK 
 
 It was audacious, the work she d do, 
 
 And the thousand plans that she d putt through 
 
 And sing like a medder-lark all day long, 
 
 And drownd her cares in the joys o* song; 
 
 And laugh sometimes tel the farmer s "hand," 
 
 Away fur off in the fields, would stand 
 
 A-listenin , with the plow half drawn, 
 
 Tel the coaxin echoes called him on ; 
 
 And the furries seemed, in his dreamy eyes, 
 
 Like foot-paths a-leadin to Paradise, 
 
 As off through the hazy atmosphere 
 
 The call fer dinner reached his ear. 
 
 Now love s as cunnin a little thing 
 As a hummin -bird upon the wing, 
 And as liable to poke his nose 
 Jest where folks would least suppose, 
 And more n likely build his nest 
 Right in the heart you d leave unguessed, 
 And live and thrive at your expense 
 At least, that s my experience. 
 And old Jeff Thompson often thought, 
 In his se fish way, that the quiet John 
 Was a stiddy chap, as a farm-hand ought 
 To always be, fer the airliest dawn 
 Found John busy and "easy," too, 
 Whenever his wages would fall due ! 
 To sum him up with a final touch, 
 He eat so little and worked so much, 
 That old Jeff laughed to hisse f and said, 
 " He makes me money and aims his bread !" 
 Difib- ..:!.> I--t3rf no Wu.toenoH v 
 400 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But John, fer all of his quietude, 
 Would sometimes drap a word er $,_,; 
 That none but Patience understood, 
 And none but her was meant to know ! 
 Maybe at meal-times John would say, 
 As the sugar-bowl come down his way, 
 "Thanky, no ; my coffee s sweet 
 Enough fer me!" with sich conceit, 
 She d know at once, without no doubt, 
 He meant because she poured it out ; 
 And smile and blush, and all sich stuff, 
 And ast ef it was "strong enough?" 
 And git the answer, neat and trim, 
 "It couldn t be too strong fer him !" 
 
 V{ew-^bm* nr ,tifi-tef{Jo JuH 
 And so things went fer bout a year, 
 Tel John, at last, found pluck to go 
 And pour his tale in the old man s ear 
 And ef it had been hot lead, I know 
 It couldn t a raised a louder fuss, 
 Ner a riled the old man s temper wuss ! 
 He jest lit in, and cussed and swore, 
 And lunged and rared, and ripped and tore 
 And told John jest to leave his door, 
 And not to darken it no more ! 
 But Patience cried, with eyes all wet, 
 "Remember, John, and don t ferget, 
 Whatever comes, I love you yet!" 
 But the old man thought, in his se fish way, 
 "I ll see her married rich some day ; 
 And that," thinks he, "is money fer me 
 And my will s law, as it ought to be !" 
 
 401 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 So when, in the course of a month er so, 
 
 A widower, with a farm er two, 
 
 Comes to Jeff s, w y, the folks, you know, 
 
 Had to talk as the f olks ll do : 
 
 It was the talk of the neighberhood 
 
 Patience and John, and their affairs ; 
 
 And this old chap with a few gray hairs 
 
 Had "cut John out," it was understood. 
 
 And some folks reckoned "Patience, too, 
 
 Knowed what she was a-goin to do 
 
 It was like her la 1 indeed ! 
 
 All she loved was dollars and cents 
 
 Like old Jeff and they saw no need 
 
 Fer John to pine at her negligence !" 
 
 But others said, in a kinder way, 
 
 They missed the songs she used to sing 
 
 They missed the smiles that used to play 
 
 Over her face, and the laughin ring 
 
 Of her glad voice that ^<>r;ything 
 
 Of her old se f seemed dead and gone, 
 
 And this was the ghost that they gazed onl 
 
 Tel finally it was noised about 
 There was a weddin soon to be 
 Down at Jeff s ; and the "cat was out" 
 Shore enough ! LI the Jee-mun-nee! 
 It riled me when John told me so, 
 Fer / was a friend o John s, you know; 
 And his trimblin voice jest broke in two 
 As a feller s voice ll sometimes do. 
 And I says, says I, "Ef I know my biz 
 And I think I know what jestice is, 
 
 402 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I ve read some law and I d advise 
 A man like you to wipe his eyes, 
 And square his jaws and start ag in, 
 Per jestice is a-goin to win!" 
 And it wasn t long tel his eyes had cleared 
 As blue as the skies, and the sun appeared 
 In the shape of a good old-fashioned smile 
 That I hadn t seen fer a long, long while. 
 
 So we talked on fer a hour er more, 
 And sunned ourselves in the open door, 
 Tel a hoss-and-buggy down the road 
 Come a-drivin up, that I guess John knowed, 
 Fer he winked and says, "I ll dessappear 
 They d smell a mice ef they saw me here !" 
 And he thumbed his nose at the old gray mare, 
 And hid hisse f in the house somewhere. 
 
 Well. The rig drove up : and I raised my head 
 
 As old Jeff hollered to me and said 
 
 That "him and his old friend there had come 
 
 To see ef the squire was at home." 
 
 ... I told em "I was ; and I aimed to be 
 
 At every chance of a weddin -fee !" 
 
 And then I laughed and they laughed, too, 
 
 Fer that was the object they had in view. 
 
 "Would I be on hands at eight that night ?" 
 
 They ast ; and s-I, "You re mighty right, 
 
 / // be on hands !" And then I bu st 
 
 Out a-laughin my very wu st, 
 
 And so did they, as they wheeled away 
 
 And drove to rds town in a cloud o dust. 
 
 403 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Then I shet the door, and me and John 
 Laughed and laughed, and jest laughed on< ; 
 Tel Mother drapped her specs, and by 
 Jeewhillikers! I thought she d die! 
 And she couldn t a told, I ll bet my hat, 
 What on earth she was laughin at ! 
 
 <)iiir>t b jnotdiiiJUMo fcuog fi-3o. yqufh 5ifj ril 
 But all o the fun o the tale hain t done I 
 Fer a drizzlin rain had jest begun, 
 And a-havin bout four mile to ride, 
 I jest concluded I d better light 
 Out fer Jeff s and save my hide, 
 Fer it was a-goin to storm, that night! 
 So we went down to the barn, and John 
 Saddled my beast, and I got on ; 
 And he told me somepin to not ferget, 
 And when I left, he was laughin yet. 
 
 And, proachin on to my journey s end, 
 The great big draps o the rain come down, 
 And the thunder growled in a way to lend 
 An awful look to the lowerin frown 
 The dull sky wore ; and the lightnin glanced 
 Tel my old mare jest morc n pranced, 
 And tossed her head, and bugged her eyes 
 To about four times their natchurl size, 
 As the big black lips of the clouds nd drap 
 Out some oath of a thunder-clap, 
 And threaten on in an undertone 
 That chilled a feller clean to the bone ! 
 
 Je#k V Imofo x-, hi jiwoj *[>i\>} yvoih bnA 
 
 404 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But I struck shelter soon enough 
 
 To save myse f. And the house was jammed 
 
 With the women-folks, and the weddin -stuff : 
 
 A great, long table, fairly crammed 
 
 With big pound-cakes and chops and steaks 
 
 And roasts and stews and stumick-aches 
 
 Of every fashion, form, and size, 
 
 From twisters up to punkin-pies ! 
 
 And candies, oranges, and figs, 
 
 And reezins, all the "whilligigs" 
 
 And "jim-cracks" that the law allows 
 
 On sich occasions ! Bobs and bows 
 
 Of gigglin girls, with corkscrew curls, 
 
 And fancy ribbons, reds and blues, 
 
 And "beau-ketchers" and "curliques" 
 
 To beat the world ! And seven o clock 
 
 Brought old Jeff; and brought the groom, 
 
 With a sideboard-collar on, and stock 
 
 That choked him so, he hadn t room 
 
 To swallcr in, er even sneeze, 
 
 Er clear his th oat with any ease 
 
 Er comfort and a good square cough 
 
 Would saw his Adam s apple off ! 
 
 t U*Ui :3o*:l>tt6 no >ioo! i[ oT 
 But as fer Patience My! Qomh-oomh! 
 I never saw her look so sweet ! 
 Her face was cream and roses, too ; 
 And then them eyes o heavenly blue 
 Jest made an angel all complete ! 
 And when she split em up in smiles 
 And splintered em around the room, 
 And danced acrost and met the groom, 
 
 405 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And laughed out loud It kind o* spiles 
 
 My language when I come to that 
 
 Fer, as she laid away his hat, 
 
 Thinks I, "The papers hid inside 
 
 Of that said hat must make a bride 
 
 A happy one fer all her life, 
 
 Er else a wrecked and wretched wife!" 
 
 And, someway, then, I thought of John, 
 
 Then looked towards Patience. . . . She was <70<?/- 
 
 The door stood open, and the rain 
 
 Was dashin in ; and sharp and plain 
 
 Above the storm we heerd a cry 
 
 A ringin , laughin , loud "Good-by !" 
 
 That died away, as fleet and fast 
 
 A hoss s hoofs went splashin past ! 
 
 And that was all. Twas done that quick ! 
 
 You ve heerd o fellers "lookin sick" ? 
 
 I wisht you d seen the groom jest then 
 
 I wisht you d seen them two old men, 
 
 With starin eyes that fairly glared 
 
 At one another, and the scared 
 
 And empty faces of the crowd, 
 
 I wisht you could a been allowed 
 
 To jest look on and see it all, 
 
 And heerd the girls and women bawl 
 
 And wring their hands ; and heerd old Jeff 
 
 A-cussin as he swung hisse f 
 
 Upon his hoss, who champed his bit 
 
 As though old Nick had holt of it : 
 
 And cheek by jowl the two old wrecks 
 
 Rode off as though they d break their necks. 
 
 406 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And as we all stood starin out 
 
 Into the night, I felt the brush 
 
 Of some one s hand, and turned about, 
 
 And heerd a voice that whispered, "Hush!- 
 
 They re waitin in the kitchen, and 
 
 You re wanted. Don t you understand?" 
 
 Well, ef my memory serves me now, 
 
 I think I winked. Well, anyhow, 
 
 I left the crowd a-gawkin there, 
 
 And jest slipped off around to where 
 
 The back door opened, and went in, 
 
 And turned and shet the door ag in, 
 
 And maybe locked it couldn t swear, 
 
 A woman s arms around me makes 
 
 Me liable to make mistakes. 
 
 I read a marriage license nex , 
 
 But as I didn t have my specs 
 
 I jest inferred it was all right, 
 
 And tied the knot so mortal-tight 
 
 That Patience and my old friend John 
 
 Was safe enough from that time on ! 
 
 Well now I might go on and tell 
 How all the joke at last leaked out, 
 And how the youngsters raised the yell 
 And rode the happy groom about 
 Upon their shoulders ; how the bride 
 Was kissed a hunderd times beside 
 The one 7 give her, tel she cried 
 And laughed untel she like to died ! 
 I might go on and tell you all 
 About the supper and the ball. 
 
 407 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 You d ought to see me twist my heel 
 Through jest one old Furginny reel 
 Afore you die! er tromp the strings 
 Of some old fiddle tel she sings 
 Some old cowtillion, don t you know, 
 That putts the devil in yer toe ! 
 
 We kep the dancin up tel four 
 O clock, I reckon maybe more. 
 We hardly heerd the thunders roar, 
 Er thought about the storm that blowed 
 And them two fellers on the road! 
 Tel all at onc t we heerd the door 
 Bu st open, and a voice that swore, 
 And old Jeff Thompson tuck the floor. 
 He shuck hisse f and looked around 
 Like some old dog about half-drowned 
 His hat, I reckon, weighed ten pound 
 To say the least, and I ll say, shore, 
 His overcoat weighed fifty more 
 The wettest man you ever saw, 
 To have so dry a son-in-law! 
 
 He sized it all ; and Patience laid 
 
 Her hand in John s, and looked afraid, 
 
 And waited. And a stiller set 
 
 O folks, I know, you never met 
 
 In any court room, where with dread 
 
 They wait to hear a verdick read. 
 
 The old man turned his eyes on me : 
 "And have you married em ?" says he. 
 
 408 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 1 nodded "Yes." "Well, that ll do," 
 
 He says, "and now we re th ough with you, 
 
 You jest clear out, and I decide 
 
 And promise to be satisfied !" 
 
 He hadn t nothin more to say. 
 
 I saw, of course, how matters lay, 
 
 And left. But as I rode away 
 
 I heerd the roosters crow fer day. 
 
 209 The Truly Marvelous 
 
 IUNTS is the biggest mens they air 
 
 In all this world er anywhere! 
 An* Tom Thumb he s the most little-est man, 
 Cause wunst he lived in a oyshture-can ! 
 
 210 The Spoiled Child 
 
 /^AUSE Herbert Graham s a only child- 
 V>< "Wuz I there, Ma?" 
 His parunts uz got him purt nigh spiled 
 
 "Wuz I there, Ma?" 
 Allus ever where his Ma tells 
 Where she s bin at, little Herbert yells, 
 "Wuz I there, Ma?" 
 
 409 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An when she telled us wunst when she 
 Wuz ist bout big as him an me, 
 W y, little Herbert he says, says-ee, 
 
 "Wuz I there, Ma?" 
 Foolishest young-un you ever saw. 
 "Wuz I there, Ma? Wuz I there, Ma?" 
 
 211 The Doodle-Bugs s Charm 
 
 WHEN Uncle Sidney he comes here 
 An* Fred an me an Min, 
 My Ma she says she bet you yet 
 
 The roof ll tumble in ! 
 Fer Uncle he ist romps with us : 
 
 An wunst, out in our shed, 
 He telled us bout the Doodle-Bugs, 
 
 An what they ll do, he said, 
 Ef you ll ist holler "Doodle-Bugs !" 
 
 Out by our garden-bed 
 "Doodle-Bugs ! Doodle-Bugs ! 
 
 Come up an git some bread !" 
 
 Ain t Uncle Sidney funny man? 
 
 "He s childish most as me" 
 My Ma sometimes she tells him that 
 
 "He ac s so foolishly!" 
 W y, wunst, out in our garden-path, 
 
 Wite by the pie-plant bed, 
 He all sprawled out there in the dirt 
 
 An ist scrooched down his head, 
 410 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An "Doodle ! Doodle ! Doodle-Bugs ! 
 
 My Uncle Sidney said, 
 "Doodle-Bugs ! Doodle-Bugs ! 
 
 Come up an git some bread !" 
 
 An nen he showed us little holes 
 All bored there in the ground, 
 
 An little weenty heaps o dust 
 At s piled there all around : 
 
 An Uncle said, when he s like us, 
 Er purt nigh big as Fred, 
 
 That wuz the Doodle-Bugs s Charm- 
 To call em up, he said : 
 
 "Doodle! Doodle! Doodle-Bugs!" 
 An they d poke out their head 
 
 "Doodle-Bugs ! Doodle-Bugs ! 
 Come up an git some bread !" 
 
 Little Cousin Jasper 
 
 EFTLE Cousin Jasper, he 
 Don t live in this town, like me, 
 He lives way to Rensselaer, 
 An ist comes to visit here. 
 
 He says at our court-house square 
 Ain t nigh big as theirn is there ! 
 He says their town s big as four 
 Er five towns like this, an more 1 
 411 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 He says ef his folks moved here 
 He d cry to leave Rensselaer 
 Cause they s prairies there, an lakes. 
 An wile-ducks an rattlesnakes! 
 
 Yes, V little Jasper s Pa 
 Shoots most things you ever saw ! 
 Wunst he shot a deer, one day, 
 At swummed off an got away. 
 
 Little Cousin Jasper went 
 An camped out wunst in a tent 
 Wiv his Pa, an helt his gun 
 While he kilt a turrapun. 
 
 An when his Ma heerd o that, 
 An more things his Pa s bin at, 
 She says, "Yes, n he ll git shot 
 Fore he s man-grown, like as not ! :> 
 
 An they s mussrats there, an minks : 
 An* di-dippers, an chee-winks, 
 Yes, n cal mus-root you chew 
 All up an t on t pizen you ! 
 
 An , in town, s a flag-pole there 
 Highest one at s anywhere 
 In this world ! wite in the street 
 Where the big mass-meetin s meet. 
 
 Yes, n Jasper he says they 
 Got a brass band there, an play 
 On it, an march up an down 
 An all over round the town ! 
 412 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Wisht our town ain t like it is ! 
 Wisht it s ist as big as his ! 
 Wisht at his folks they d move here, 
 An* we d move to Rensselaer ! 
 
 213 The Bee-Bag 
 
 WHEN I was ist a Brownie a weenty-teenty 
 Brownie 
 
 Long afore I got to be like Childerns is to-day, 
 My good old Brownie granny gimme sweeter thing an 
 
 can y 
 
 An at s my little bee-bag the Fairies stold away ! 
 O my little bee-bag 
 My little funny bee-bag 
 My little honey bee-bag 
 The Fairies stold away! 
 
 One time when I bin swung in wiv annuver Brownie 
 
 young-tin 
 An lef sleepin in a pea-pod while our parunts went to 
 
 play, 
 
 I waked up ist a-cryin an a-sobbin an a-sighin 
 Fer my little funny bee-bag the Fairies stold away ! 
 O my little bee-bag 
 My little funny bee-bag 
 My little honey bee-bag 
 The Fairies stold away! 
 
 413 
 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 It s awful much bewilder n , but at s why I m a Childern, 
 
 Ner goin to git to be no more a Brownie sence that day! 
 My parunts, so imprudent, lef me sleepin when they 
 
 shouldn t ! 
 
 An I want my little bee-bag the Fairies stold away ! 
 O my little bee-bag 
 My little funny bee-bag 
 My little honey bee-bag 
 The Fairies stold away! 
 
 214 Mongst the Hills o Somerset 
 
 T\/T ONGST the Hills Somersct 
 
 IV JL Wisht I was a-roamin yet! 
 My feet won t get usen to 
 These low lands I m trompin through. 
 Wisht I could go back there, and 
 Stroke the long grass with my hand, 
 Kind o like my sweethearts hair 
 Smoothed out underneath it there! 
 Wisht I could set eyes once more 
 On our shadders, on before, 
 Climbin , in the airly dawn. 
 Up the slopes at love growed on 
 Natchurl as the violet 
 Mongst the Hills o Somerset ! 
 
 How t u d rest a man like me 
 Jes fer bout an hour to be 
 414 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Up there where the morning air 
 Could reach out and ketch me there ! 
 Snatch my breath away, and then 
 Rensh and give it back again 
 Fresh as dew, and smellin of 
 The old pinks I ust to love, 
 And a-flavor n ever breeze 
 With mixt hints o mulberries 
 And May-apples, from the thick 
 Bottom-lands along the crick 
 Where the fish bit, dry er wet, 
 Mongst the Hills o Somerset ! 
 
 Like a livin pictur things 
 
 All comes back : the bluebird swings 
 
 In the maple, tongue and bill 
 
 Trillin glory fit to kill ! 
 
 In the orchard, jay and bee 
 
 Ripens the first pears fer me, 
 
 And the "Prince s Harvest" they 
 
 Tumble to me where I lay 
 
 In the clover, provin still 
 
 "A boy s will is the wind s will." 
 
 Clean fergot is time, and care, 
 
 And thick hearin , and gray hair 
 
 But they s nothin* I ferget 
 
 Mongst the Hills o Somerset ! 
 
 Middle-aged to be edzact, 
 Very middle-aged, in fact, 
 Yet a-thinkin back to then, 
 I m the same wild boy again ! 
 
 415 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 There s the dear old home once more, 
 And there s Mother at the door 
 Dead, I know, fer thirty year , 
 Yet she s singin , and I hear ; 
 And there s Jo, and Mary Jane, 
 And Pap, comin up the lane ! 
 Dusk s a-fallin ; and the dew, 
 Pears like, it s a-fallin too 
 Dreamin we re all livin yet 
 Mongst the Hills o Somerset! 
 
 215 Old John Henry 
 
 OLD John s jes made o the commonest stuff- 
 Old John Henry- 
 He s tough, I reckon, but none too tough 
 Too tough though s better than not enough ! 
 
 Says old John Henry. 
 He does his best, and when his best s bad, 
 He don t fret none, ner he don t git sad 
 He simply lows it s the best he had : 
 Old John Henry! 
 
 His doctern s jes o the plainest brand 
 
 Old John Henry 
 A smilin face and a hearty hand 
 S religen at all folks understand, 
 
 Says old John Henry. 
 416 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 He s stove up some with the rhumatiz, 
 And they hain t no shine on them shoes o his, 
 And his hair hain t cut but his eye-teeth is : 
 Old John Henry! 
 
 He feeds hisse f when the stock s all fed- 
 Old John Henry 
 
 And sleeps like a babe when he goes to bed 
 
 And dreams o Heaven and home-made bread, 
 Says old John Henry. 
 
 He hain t refined as he d ort to be 
 
 To fit the statutes o poetry, 
 
 Ner his clothes don t fit him but he fits me: 
 Old John Henry I 
 
 216 Scotty 
 
 SCOTT Y S dead. Of course he is! 
 Jes that same old luck of his ! 
 Ever sence we went cahoots 
 He s be n first, you bet yer boots ! 
 When our schoolin first begun, 
 Got two whippin s to my one : 
 Stold and smoked the first cigar : 
 Stood up first before the bar, 
 Takin whisky-straight and me 
 Wastiri time on "blackberry" ! 
 Beat me in the Army, too, 
 And clean on the whole way through !- 
 
 417 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 In more scrapes around the camp, 
 And more troubles, on the tramp : 
 Fought and fell there by my side 
 With more bullets in his hide, 
 And more glory in the cause, 
 That s the kind o man he was ! 
 Luck liked Scotty more n me. 
 7 got married : Scotty, he 
 Never even would apply 
 Fer the pension-money I 
 Had to beg of "Uncle Sam" 
 That s the kind o cuss / am ! 
 Scotty allus first and best 
 Me the last and ornriest! 
 Yit fer all that s said and done 
 All the battles fought and won 
 We hain t prospered, him ner me 
 Both as pore as pore could be, 
 Though we ve allus, up tel now, 
 Stuck together anyhow 
 Scotty allus, as I ve said, 
 Luckiest And now he s dead! 
 
 217 Back from TOTVH 
 
 OLD friends allus is the best, 
 Halest-like and heartiest : 
 Knowed us first, and don t allow 
 We re so blame much better now I 
 
 4.8 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They was standin at the bars 
 When we grabbed "the kivvered kyars" 
 And lit out fer town, to make 
 Money and that old mistake ! 
 
 We thought then the world we went 
 Into beat "The Settlement," 
 And the friends at we d make there 
 Would beat any anywhere ! 
 And they do fer that s their biz : 
 They beat all the friends they is 
 Cept the raa! old friends like you 
 At staid home, like I d ort to ! 
 
 W y, of all the good things yit 
 I ain t shet of, is to quit 
 Business, and git back to sheer 
 These old comforts waitin here 
 These old friends ; and these old hands 
 At a feller understands ; 
 These old winter nights, and old 
 Young- folks chased in out the cold ! 
 
 Sing "Hard Times ll come ag in 
 No More !" and neighbers all jine in ! 
 Here s a feller come from town 
 Wants that-air old fiddle down 
 From the chimbly ! Git the floor 
 Cleared fer one cowtillion more ! 
 It s poke the kitchen fire, says he, 
 And shake a friendly leg with me ! 
 
 419 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 218 A Man by the Name of Bolus 
 
 A MAN by the name of Bolus (all at we ll ever know 
 Of the stranger s name, I reckon and I m kind o 
 
 glad it s so !) 
 Got off here, Christmas morning, looked round the town, 
 
 and then 
 Kind o sized up the folks, I guess, and went away again ! 
 
 The f ac s is, this man Bolus got "run in," Christmas-day ; 
 The town turned out to see it, and cheered, and blocked the 
 
 way; 
 And they dragged him fore the Mayor fer he couldn t er 
 
 zvouldn t walk 
 And socked him down fer trial though he couldn t cr 
 
 wouldn t talk ! 
 
 Drunk? They was no doubt of it! W y, the marshal of 
 
 the town 
 
 Laughed and testified at he fell />-stairs stid o down! 
 This man by the name of Bolus? W y, he even drapped 
 
 his jaw 
 And snored on through his "hearin" drunk as you ever 
 
 saw ! 
 
 One feller spit in his boot-leg, and another n drapped a 
 
 small 
 Little chunk o ice down his collar, but he didn t wake at 
 
 all! 
 
 420 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And they all nearly split when his Honor said, in one of his 
 
 witty ways, 
 To "chalk it down fer him, Called away be back in thirty 
 
 days ! " 
 
 That s where this man named Bolus slid, kind o like in a 
 
 fit, 
 Flat on the floor ; and drat my ears ! I hear em a-laughin 
 
 yit! 
 
 Somebody fetched Doc Sifers from jes acrost the hall 
 And all Doc said was, "Morphine! We re too late!" and 
 
 that s all! 
 
 That s how they found his name out piece of a letter at 
 
 read: 
 
 "Your wife has lost her reason, and little Nathan s dead-^ 
 Come ef you kin, fergive her but, Bolus, as fer me, 
 This hour I send a bullet through where my heart ort to 
 
 be!" 
 
 Man by the name of Bolus! As his revilers broke 
 
 Fer the open air, peared like, to me, I heerd a voice at 
 
 spoke 
 
 Man by the name of Bolus! git up from where you lay 
 Git up and smile white at em, with your hands crossed 
 
 thataway! 
 
 421 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 219 Cuorcd o Skeerin 
 
 E5H, you rickollect that-air 
 Dad-burn skittish old bay mare 
 Was no livin with ! at skeerd 
 *T ever thing she seed er heerd ! 
 Th owed "Yes* Anders, and th owed Pap, 
 First he straddled her k-slap! 
 And Izory well ! th owed her 
 Hain t no tellin jest how fur! 
 Broke her collar-bone and might 
 Jest V kilt the gyrl outright ! 
 
 Course I d heerd em make their boast 
 
 She th ow any feller, most, 
 
 Ever topped her ! S I, "I know 
 
 One man at she ll never th ow !" 
 
 So I rid her in to mill, 
 
 And, jest comin* round the hill, 
 
 Met a traction-engine! Ort 
 
 Jest V heerd that old mare snort, 
 
 And lay back her yeers, and see 
 
 Her a-tryin to th ow me! 
 
 Course I never said a word, 
 
 But thinks I, "My ladybird, 
 
 You ll git cuored, right here and now, 
 
 Of yer dy-does anyhow !" 
 
 So I stuck her tel she d jest 
 Done her very level best ; 
 Then I slides off strips the lines 
 Over her fool-head, and finds 
 422 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Me a little saplin -gad, 
 Side the road : And there we had 
 Our own fun! jest wore her out! 
 Mounted her, and faced about, 
 And jest made her nose that-air 
 Little traction-engine there I 
 
 220 Home Again 
 
 I M bin a-visitun bout a week 
 To my little Cousin s at Nameless Creek ; 
 An I m got the hives an a new straw hat, 
 An I m come back home where my beau lives at. 
 
 423 
 
THE BOOK OF JOYOUS CHILDREN 
 
 221 An Impromptu Fairy-Tale 
 
 When I ivuz 1st a little bit o wcenty-teenty kid 
 I makes up a Fairy-tale, all by myse f, I did: 
 
 WUNST upon a time wunst 
 They wuz a Fairy King, 
 An ever thing he have wuz gold- 
 
 His clo es, an* ever 1 thing ! 
 An all the other Fairies 
 
 In his goldun Palace-hall 
 Had to hump an hustle 
 Cause he wuz bosst of all! 
 
 He have a goldun trumput, 
 
 An when he blow on that, 
 It s a sign he want his boots, 
 
 Er his coat er hat : 
 They s a sign fer ever thing, 
 
 An all the Fairies knowed 
 Ever sign, an come a-hoppin* 
 
 When the King blowed ! 
 
 424 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 in 
 
 Wunst he bio wed an telled em all : 
 
 "Saddle up yer bees 
 Fireflies is gittin fat 
 
 An sassy as you please ! 
 Guess we ll go a-huntin !" 
 
 So they hunt a little bit, 
 Till the King blowed "Supper-time," 
 
 Nen they all quit. 
 
 IV 
 
 Nen they have a Banqut 
 
 In the Palace-hall, 
 An ist et ! an et ! an et ! 
 
 Nen they have a Ball; 
 An when the Queen o Fairyland 
 
 Come p omenadin through, 
 The King says an halts her, 
 
 "Guess I ll marry you !" 
 ft -/ -n^bjf l I*?:.-; ;->;-!/ imtg orij v/oig lanniriT 
 
 222 Dream-March 
 
 ; gnrn t^t oi 03 smoz ; c?.^l sni^fii;; oJ yg ornoS 
 
 WASN T it a funny dream ! perfectly bewild rin ! 
 Last night, and night before, and night before that, 
 Seemed like I saw the march o regiments o children, 
 Marching to the robin s fife and cricket s rat-ta-tat! 
 Lily-banners overhead, with the dew upon em, 
 
 On flashed the little army, as with sword and flame ; 
 Like the buzz o bumble-wings, with the honey on em, 
 Came an eery, cheery chant, chiming as it came : ~ 
 
 425 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Where go the children? Traveling! Traveling! 
 
 Where go the children, traveling ahead? 
 Some go to kindergarten; some go to day-school; 
 
 Some go to night-school; and some go to bed! 
 
 Smooth roads or rough roads, warm or winter weather, 
 
 On go the children, towhead and brown, 
 Brave boys and brave girls, rank and file together, 
 
 Marching out of Morning-Land, over dale and down : 
 Some go a-gipsying out in country places 
 
 Out through the orchards, with blossoms on the boughs, 
 Wild, sweet, and pink and white as their own glad faces ; 
 
 And some go, at evening, calling home the cows. 
 
 Where go the children? Traveling! Traveling! 
 
 Where go the children, traveling ahead? 
 Some go to foreign wars, and camps by the firelight 
 
 Some go to glory so; and some go to bed! 
 
 Some go through grassy lanes leading to the city- 
 Thinner grow the green trees and thicker grows the dust ; 
 
 Ever, though, to little people any path is pretty 
 So it leads to newer lands, as they know it must. 
 
 Some go to singing less ; some go to list ning ; 
 Some go to thinking over ever-nobler themes ; 
 
 Some go anhungered, but ever bravely whistling, 
 Turning never home again only in their dreams. 
 
 Where go the children? Traveling! Traveling! 
 
 Where go the children, traveling ahead? 
 Some go to conquer things; some go to try them; 
 
 Some go to dream them; and some go to bed! 
 
 426 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 
 223 Elmer Brown 
 
 Jo 
 
 A WF LEST boy in this-here town 
 \. Er anywheres is Elmer Brown ! 
 He ll mock you yes, an strangers, too, 
 An* make a face an yell at you, 
 Here s the way you look !" 
 
 Yes, an wunst in School one day, 
 An Teacher s lookin* wite that way, 
 He belt his slate, an* hide his head, 
 An maked a face at her, an said, 
 "Here s the way you look !" 
 
 An -sir ! when Rosie Wheeler smile 
 One morning at him crosst the aisle, 
 He twist his face all up, an black 
 His nose wiv ink, an whisper back,-^ 
 "Here s the way you look !" 
 
 Wunst when his Aunt s all dressed to call 
 An* kiss him good-by in the hall, 
 An latch the gate an* start away, 
 He holler out to her an say, 
 "Here s the way you look !" 
 
 An* when his Pa he read out loud 
 The speech he maked, an feel so proud 
 It s in the paper Elmer s Ma 
 She ketched him wite behind his Pa, 
 "Here s the way you look !" 
 427 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Nen when his Ma she slip an take 
 Him in the other room an shake 
 Him good ! w y, he don t care no-sir! 
 He ist look up an laugh at her, 
 "Here s the way you look!" 
 
 224 When We First Played "Shozv" 
 
 WASN T it a good time, 
 Long Time Ago 
 When we all were little tads 
 
 And first played "Show" ! 
 When every newer day 
 
 Wore as bright a glow 
 As the ones we laughed away 
 Long Time Ago ! 
 
 Calf was in the back-lot ; 
 
 Clover in the red ; 
 Bluebird in the pear-tree ; 
 
 Pigeons on the shed ; 
 Tom a-chargin twenty pins 
 
 At the barn ; and Dan 
 Spraddled out just like "The 
 
 Injarubber -Man !" 
 
 Me and Bub and Rusty, 
 
 Eck and Dunk and Sid 
 
 Tumblin on the sawdust 
 Like the A-rabs did; 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Jamesy on the slack-rope 
 
 In a wild retreat, 
 Grappling back, to start again 
 
 When he chalked his feet ! 
 
 Wasn t Eck a wonder, 
 
 In his stocking-tights? 
 
 Wasn t Dunk his leaping lion 
 Chief of all delights? 
 
 Yes, and wasn t "Little Mack" 
 Boss of all the Show, 
 
 Both Old Clown and Candy-Butcher- 
 Long Time Ago! 
 
 Sid the Bareback-Rider ; 
 
 And oh-me-oh-wry / 
 Bub, the spruce Ring-Master, 
 
 Stepping round so spry! 
 In his little waist-and-trousers 
 
 All made in one, 
 Was there a prouder youngster 
 
 Under the sun! 
 
 And NOW who will tell me, 
 
 Where are they all? 
 Dunk s a sanatorium doctor, 
 
 Up at Waterfall ; 
 Sid s a city street-contractor; 
 
 Tom has fifty clerks; 
 And Jamesy he s the "Iron Magnate" 
 
 Of "The Hecla Works." 
 
 429 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And Bub s old and bald now, 
 
 Yet still he hangs on, 
 Dan and Eck and "Little Mack," 
 
 Long, long gone ! 
 But wasn t it a good time, 
 
 Long Time Ago 
 When we all were little tads 
 
 And first played "Show" ! 
 
 225 The Rambo-Tree 
 
 * 
 
 WHEN Autumn shakes the rambo-tree 
 It s a long, sweet way across the orchard !- 
 The bird sings low as the bumble bee 
 
 It s a long, sweet way across the orchard ! 
 The poor shote-pig he says, says he : 
 "When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree 
 There s enough for you and enough for me." 
 It s a long, sweet way across the orchard. 
 
 For just two truant lads like we, 
 When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree 
 There s enough for you and enough for me 
 It s a long, sweet way across the orchard. 
 
 When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree 
 
 It s a long, sweet way across the orchard ! 
 
 The mole digs out to peep and see 
 
 It s a long, sweet way across the orchard ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The dusk sags down, and the moon swings free, 
 There s a far, lorn call, "Pig-gee! Pig-gee!" 
 And two boys glad enough for three. 
 It s a long, sweet way across the orchard. 
 
 For just two truant lads like we, 
 When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree 
 There s enough for you and enough for me 
 It s a long, sweet way across the orchard. 
 
 2?,6 Extremes 
 
 A LITTLE boy once played so loud 
 That the Thunder, up in a thunder-cloud, 
 Said, "Since 7 can t be heard, why, then 
 I ll never, never thunder again !" 
 
 And a little girl once kept so still 
 That she heard a fly on the window-sill 
 Whisper and say to a lady-bird, 
 "She s the stilliest child I ever heard !" 
 
 431 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 227 Intellectual Limitations 
 
 r x. .,.-,,, ^..-^-p fiftc [ i 
 
 PARUNTS knows lots more than us, 
 But they don t know all things, 
 Cause we ketch em, lots o times, 
 Even on little small things. 
 
 One time Winnie ask her Ma, 
 
 At the winder, sewin , 
 What s the wind a-doin when 
 
 It s a-not a-blowin f 
 
 Yes, an Del , that very day. 
 
 When we re nearly froze out, 
 He ask* Uncle where it goes 
 
 When the fire goes out? 
 
 Nen 7 run to ask my Pa, 
 
 That way, somepin funny; 
 But I can t say ist but "Say," 
 When he turn to me an say, 
 "Well, what is it, Honey?" 
 
 228 \ Thomas the Pretender 
 
 TOMMY S alluz playin jokes, 
 An actin up, an* foolin folks ; 
 An wunst one time he creep 
 In Pa s big chair, he did, one night, 
 An squint an shut his eyes bofe tight, 
 An say, "Now I m asleep." 
 432 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An nen we knowed, an Ma know too, 
 He ain t asleep no more n you ! 
 
 An wunst he clumbed on our back-fence 
 An flop his arms an nen commence 
 
 To crow, like he s a hen ; 
 But when he failed off, like he done, 
 He didn t fool us childern none, 
 
 Ner didn t crow again. 
 An our Hired Man, as he come by, 
 Says, "Tom can t crow, but he kin cry." 
 
 An* one time wunst Tom tend -like he s 
 His Pa an goin to rob the bees ; 
 
 An , first he know oh, dear ! 
 They ist come swarmin out o there 
 An sting him, an stick in his hair 
 
 An one got in his yeer ! 
 An Uncle sigh an say to Ma, 
 An grease the welts, Tore Pa ! pore Pa ! 
 
 229 Little Dick and the Clock 
 
 WHEN Dicky was sick 
 In the night, and the clock, 
 As he listened, said "Tick- 
 
 Atty tick-atty tock !" 
 He said that it said, 
 
 Every time it said "Tick," 
 It said "Sick," instead, 
 
 433 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And he heard it say "Sick ! ! 
 And when it said "Tick- 
 
 Atty tick-atty tock," 
 He said it said "Sick- 
 
 Atty sick-atty sock !" 
 And he tried to see then, 
 
 But the light was too dim. 
 Yet he heard it again 
 
 And twas talking to him 1 
 
 And then it said "Sick- 
 
 Atty sick-atty sick ! 
 You poor little Dick- 
 
 Atty Dick-atty Dick ! 
 Have you got the hick- 
 
 Atties? Hi! send for Doc 
 To hurry up quick- 
 
 Atty quick-atty quock, 
 And heat a hot brick- 
 
 Atty brick-atty brock, 
 And rickle-ty wrap it 
 And clickle-ty clap it 
 
 Against his cold feet- 
 
 Al-ty weep-aty eepaty- 
 There he goes, slapit- 
 
 Ty slippaty sleepaty !" 
 
 434 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 230 Fool-Young ens 
 
 ME an Bert an Minnie-Belle 
 Knows a joke, an we won t telK 
 No, we don t cause we don t know 
 Why we got to laughin so ; 
 But we got to laughin so, 
 We ist kep a-laughin o 
 
 Wind wuz blowin in the tree 
 An* wuz only ist us three 
 Playin there ; an* ever one 
 Ketched each other, like we done, 
 Squintin* up there at the sun 
 Like we wuz a-laughin*. 
 
 Nothin* funny anyway ; 
 But I laughed, an so did they 
 An we all three laughed, an nen 
 Squint our eyes an laugh again : 
 Ner we didn t ist p ten 
 
 We wuz shore- nough laughin 
 
 We ist laugh an laugh , tel Bert 
 Say he can t quit an it hurt. 
 Nen I howl, an Minnie-Belle 
 She tear up the grass a spell 
 An ist stop her yeers an yell 
 Like she d die a-laughin . 
 
 435 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Never sich fool-youngens yit ! 
 Nothin funny, not a bit ! 
 But we laugh so, tel we whoop 
 Purt nigh like we have the croup 
 All so hoarse we d wheeze an whoop 
 An ist choke a-laughin . 
 
 231 Billy and His Drum 
 
 HO ! it s come, kids, come ! 
 With a bim ! bam ! bum ! 
 Here s little Billy bangin on his 
 
 big bass drum ! 
 
 He s a-marchin round the room, 
 With his feather-duster plume 
 A-noddin an a-bobbin with his 
 bim! bom! boom! 
 
 Looky, little Jane an Jim ! 
 Will you only look at him, 
 A-humpin an a-thumpin with his 
 
 bam ! bom ! bim ! 
 Has the Day o Judgment come 
 Er the New Mi-len-nee-um ? 
 Er is it only Billy with his 
 
 bim ! bam ! bum ! 
 
 I m a-comin ; yes, I am 
 Jim an Sis, an Jane an Sam ! 
 We ll all march off with Billy an his 
 bom ! bim ! bam ! 
 
 436 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Come hurratt/in as you come, 
 Er the} ll think you re deef-an -dumb 
 Ef you don t hear little Billy an his 
 big bass drum ! 
 
 132 The Noble Old Elm 
 
 OBIG OLD TREE, so tall an fine, 
 Where all us childern swings an plays, 
 Though neighbers says you re on the line 
 
 Between Pa s house an Mr. Gray s, 
 Us childern used to almost fuss, 
 
 Old Tree, about you when we d play. 
 We d argy you belonged to us, 
 An them Gray-kids the other way ! 
 
 Till Elsie, one time she wuz here 
 
 An playin wiv us Don t you mind, 
 Old Mister Tree ? an purty near 
 
 She scolded us the hardest kind 
 Fer quar llin* bout you thataway, 
 
 An say she ll find ef we ll keep still 
 Whose tree you air fer shore, she say, 
 
 An settle it fer good, she will ! 
 
 So all keep still : An nen she gone 
 An pat the Old Tree, an says she, 
 
 "Whose air you, Tree ?" an nen let on 
 Like she s a-list nin to the Tree, 
 
 437 
 
THE HOOSIKR BOOK 
 
 An nen she say, "It s settled, cause 
 The Old Tree says he s all our tree 
 
 His trunk belongs to bofe your Pas, 
 But shade belongs to you an me." 
 
 The Penalty of Genius 
 
 WHEN little Pollus Morton he s 
 A-go to speak a piece, w y, nei?. 
 The Teacher smiles an says at she s 
 
 Most proud, of all her little men 
 An* women in her school cause Poll 
 He allus speaks the best of all. 
 
 An nen she ll pat him on the cheek, 
 An hold her finger up at you 
 
 Before he speak ; an when he speak 
 It s ist some piece she learn him to ! 
 
 Cause he s her favor-ite. . . . An she 
 
 Ain t pop lar as she ust to be ! 
 
 When Pollus Morton speaks, w y, nen 
 Ist all the other childern knows 
 
 They re smart as him an smart-again ! 
 Ef they can t speak an got fine clo es, 
 
 Their Parunts loves em more n Poll- 
 
 Us Morton, Teacher, speech, an all ! 
 
 438 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 234. The Good, Old-Fashioned People 
 
 WHEN we hear Uncle Sidney tell 
 About the long-ago 
 An old, old friends he loved so well 
 
 When he was young My-oh ! 
 Us childern all wish we d a bin 
 
 A-livin then with Uncle, so 
 We could a-kind o happened in 
 
 On them old friends he used to know !- 
 The good, old-fashioned people 
 The hale, hard-working people 
 The kindly country people 
 At Uncle used to know 1 
 
 They was God s people, Uncle says, 
 
 An gloried in His name, t 
 
 An* worked, without no selfishness, 
 
 An loved their neighbers same 
 As they was kin : An when they biled 
 
 Their tree-molasses, in the Spring, 
 Er butchered in the Fall, they smiled 
 An sheered with all jist ever thing! 
 The good, old-fashioned people 
 The hale, hard-working people 
 The kindly country people 
 At Uncle used to know ! 
 
 He tells about em, lots o times, 
 
 Till we d all ruther hear 
 About em than the Nurs ry Rhymes 
 
 Er Fairies mighty near ! 
 439 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Only sometimes he stops so long 
 
 An then talks on so low an slow, 
 It s purt nigh sad as any song 
 To listen to him talkin so 
 
 Of the good, old-fashioned people 
 The hale, hard-working people 
 The kindly country people 
 At Uncle used to know ! 
 
 A Christmas Memory 
 
 PA he bringed me here to stay 
 Til my Ma she s well. An nen. 
 He s go hitch up, Chris mus-day, 
 
 An come take me back again 
 Wher my Ma s at ! Won t I be 
 Tickled when he com^^ f er me 1 
 
 My Ma an my A nty they 
 
 Uz each-uvver s sisters. Pa 
 
 A nty telled me, th other day, 
 
 He corned here an married Ma. . . . 
 
 A nty said nen, "Go run play, 
 
 I must work now !" . . . An I saw, 
 
 W T hen she turn her face away, 
 She uz cryin . An nen I 
 Tend-like I "run play" an cry. 
 
 440 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 This-here house o A nty s wher 
 They uz horned my Ma an her ! 
 An her Ma uz my Ma s Ma, 
 An* her Pa uz my Ma s Pa 
 Ain t that funny ? An they re dead : 
 An* this-here s "th ole Homestead." 
 An my A nty said, an cried, 
 It s mine, too, ef my Ma died 
 Don t know what she mean cause my 
 Ma she s nuvver go to die ! 
 
 When Pa bringed me here t J uz night 
 
 Way dark night ! An A nty spread 
 Me a piece an light the light 
 
 An* say I must go to bed. 
 
 I cry not to but Pa said, 
 "Be good boy now, like you telled 
 
 Mommy at you re go to be !" 
 
 An , when he uz kissin me 
 
 My good night, his cheek s all wet 
 An taste salty. An he held 
 
 Wite close to me an rocked some 
 
 An laughed-like til A nty come 
 Git me while he s rockin yet. 
 
 A nty he p me, til I be 
 Purt nigh strip-pud nen hug me 
 In bofe arms an HP me way 
 Up in her high bed an pray 
 
 Wiv me, bout my Ma an Pa 
 An ole Santy Clans an Sleigh 
 
 441 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An Reindeers an little Drum- 
 Yes, an Picture-books, Tom Thumb," 
 An "Three Bears," an ole "Fee-Faw" 
 Yes, an "Tweedle-Dee" an "Dum," 
 An "White Knight" an "Squidjicum," 
 An* most things you ever saw ! 
 An when A nty kissed me, she 
 Uz all cryin* over me ! 
 vm 5?.U!Yi fiBtmi -jif Jjsilw WOHJ! J noCI 
 
 Don t want Santy Claus ner things 
 
 Any kind he ever brings ! 
 
 Don t want A nty ! Don t want Pa ! 
 
 I ist only want my Ma ! 
 
 irfgil an) JifgH nj; wjiq & M 
 .bod of 03 Jaunt I W nA 
 
 2 $6 "Old Bob White" 
 
 OLD Bob White s a funny bird ! 
 Funniest you ever heard ! 
 Hear him whistle, "Old Bob White!" 
 You can hear him, clean from where 
 He s way crosst the wheat-field there, 
 Whistlin like he didn t care 
 
 "Old Bob White!" 
 
 Whistles alluz ist the same 
 So s we won t f ergit his name ! 
 
 Hear him say it ? "Old Bob White !" 
 There! he s whizzed off down the lane- 
 Gone back where his folks is stayin 
 Hear him ? There he goes again, 
 "Old Bob White !" 
 442 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 When boys ever tries to git 
 Clos t to him how quick he ll quit 
 
 Whistlin his "Old Bob White!" 
 "Whoo-rhoo-rhoo!" he s up an flew, 
 1st a-purt nigh skeerin you 
 Into fits ! At s what he ll do. 
 "Old Bob White!" 
 
 .Hha <\wA vJnO 
 
 Wunst our Hired Man an me, 
 When we drove to Harmony, 
 
 Saw one, whistlin "Old Bob White!" 
 An we drove wife clos t, an I 
 Saw him an he didn t fly, 
 Birds likes horses, an that s why. 
 
 "Old Bob White!" 
 , .D<X.// r -.-. fr: attjriw .omod movl 
 
 One time, Uncle Sidney says, 
 Wunst he rob a Bob White s nes 
 
 Of the eggs of "Old Bob White"; 
 Nen he hatched em wiv a hen 
 An her little chicks, an nen 
 They ist all flewed off again ! 
 
 "Old Bob White!" 
 rtt ft.*nf -rfb > rfPaoif-rriri "nitf" oh Mo ir.- 
 
 ,?J7 ^4 Session with Uncle Sidney 
 
 vfi&i>rjg Hn rro^). TO v> htrl s/cx! 3 7/ 
 
 ONE OF HIS ANIMAL STORIES 
 
 NOW, Tudens, you sit on this knee and sense 
 It having no side-saddle on ; and, Jeems, 
 You sit on this and don t you wobble so 
 And chug my old shins with your coppertoes ; 
 443 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And, all the rest of you, range round someway, 
 
 Ride on the rockers and hang to the arms 
 
 Of our old-time splint-bottom carryall! 
 
 Do anything but squabble for a place, 
 
 Or push or shove or scrouge, or breathe out loud, 
 
 Or chew wet, or knead taffy in my beard ! 
 
 Do anything almost act anyway, 
 
 Only keep still, so I can hear myself 
 
 Trying to tell you "just one story more!" 
 
 One winter afternoon my father, with 
 
 A whistle to our dog, a shout to us 
 
 His two boys six and eight years old we were, 
 
 Started off to the woods, a half a mile 
 
 From home, where he was chopping wood. We raced 
 
 We slipped and slid ; reaching, at last, the north 
 
 Side of Tharp s corn-field. There we struck what seeme< 
 
 To be a coon-track so we all agreed: 
 
 And father, who was not a hunter, to 
 
 Our glad surprise, proposed we follow it. 
 
 The snow was quite five inches deep ; and we, 
 
 Keen on the trail, were soon far in the woods. 
 
 Our old dog, "Ring," ran nosing the fresh track 
 
 With whimpering delight, far on ahead. 
 
 After following the trail more than a mile 
 
 To northward, through the thickest winter woods 
 
 We boys had ever seen, all suddenly 
 
 He seemed to strike another trail ; and then 
 
 Our joyful attention was drawn to 
 
 Old "Ring" leaping to this side, then to that, 
 
 Of a big, hollow, old oak-tree, which had 
 
 Been blown clown by a storm some years before. 
 
 444 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 There all at once out leapt a lean old fox 
 From the black hollow of a big bent limb, 
 Hey! how he scudded! but with our old "Ring" 
 Sharp after him and father after "Ring" 
 We after father, near as we could hold. 
 And father noticed that the fox kept just 
 About four feet ahead of "Ring" just that 
 No farther, and no nearer ! Then he said : 
 "There are young foxes in that tree back there, 
 And the mother-fox is drawing Ring and us 
 Away from their nest there !" "Oh, le s go back ! 
 Do le s go back !" we little vandals cried, 
 "Le s go back, quick, and find the little things 
 Please, father ! Yes, and take em home for pets 
 Cause Ring he ll kill the old fox anyway !" 
 
 So father turned at last, and back we went, 
 And then he chopped a hole in the old tree 
 About ten feet along the limb from which 
 The old fox ran, and Bless their little lives ! 
 There, in the hollow of the old tree-trunk 
 There, on a bed of warm dry leaves and moss 
 There, snug as any bug in any rug 
 We found one two three four, and, yes-sir, five 
 Wee, weenty-teenty baby foxes, with 
 Their eyes just barely opened Cu tef my-oh ! 
 The cutest the most cunning little things 
 Two boys ever saw, in all their lives ! 
 "Raw weather for the little fellows now!" 
 Said father, as though talking to himself, 
 "Raw weather, and no home now!" And off came 
 His warm old "waumus"; and in that he wrapped 
 Tli* helpless little fellows, and held 
 445 
 
THE IIOOSIKR BOOK 
 
 Them soft and warm against him as he could, 
 And home we happy children followed him. 
 
 Old "Ring" did not reach home till nearly dusk : 
 The mother-fox had led him a long chase 
 "Yes, and a fool s chase, too !" he seemed to say, 
 And looked ashamed to hear us praising him. 
 But, mother well, we could not understand 
 Her acting as she did and we so pleased! 
 I can see yet the look of pained surprise 
 And deep compassion of her troubled face 
 When father very gently laid his coat, 
 With the young foxes in it, on the hearth 
 Beside her, as she brightened up the fire. 
 She urged for the old fox s sake and theirs 
 That they be taken back to the old tree ; 
 But father for our wistful sakes, no doubt 
 Said we would keep them, and would try our best 
 To raise them. And at once he set about 
 Building a snug home for the little things 
 Out of an old big bushel-basket, with 
 Its fractured handle and its stoven ribs : 
 So, lining and padding this all cozily, 
 He snuggled in its little tenants, and 
 Called in John Wesley Thomas, our hired man, 
 And gave him in full charge, with much advice 
 Regarding the just care and sustenance of 
 Young foxes. "John," he said, "you feed em milk 
 Warm milk, John Wesley ! Yes, and keep em by 
 The stove and keep your stove a-roarin , too, 
 Both night and day ! And keep em covered up 
 Not smothered, John, but snug and comfortable. 
 And now, John Wesley Thomas, first and last, 
 446 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 You feed em milk fresh milk and always warm 
 
 Say five or six or seven times a day 
 
 Of course we ll grade that by the way they thrive." 
 
 But, for all sanguine hope, and care, as well, 
 
 The little fellows did not thrive at all. 
 
 Indeed, with all our care and vigilance, 
 
 By the third day of their captivity 
 
 The last survivor of the fated five 
 
 Squeaked, like some battered little rubber toy 
 
 Just clean wore out. And that s just what it wuz ! 
 
 And nights, the cry of the mother-fox for her young 
 
 Was heard, with awe, for long weeks afterward. 
 
 And we boys, every night, would go to the door 
 
 And, peering out in the darkness, listening, 
 
 Could hear the poor fox in the black bleak woods 
 
 Still calling for her little ones in vain. 
 
 As, all mutely, we returned to the warm fireside, 
 
 Mother would say: "How would you like for me 
 
 To be out there, this dark night, in the cold woods, 
 
 Calling for my children?" 
 
 n 
 
 UNCLE BRIGHTENS UP 
 
 Uncle he says at way down in the sea 
 
 Ever thing s ist like it used to be : 
 
 He says they s mermaids, an mermens, too, 
 
 An little merchildern, like me an you 
 
 Little merboys, with tops an balls, 
 
 An little mergirls, with little merdolls. 
 
 447 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 in 
 
 A PET OF UNCLE SIDNEY S 
 
 ,IIW ij \3~iL ) bsifi - ,oqof{ Srmj-grtfis Us mi v i; 
 Uncle Sidney s vurry proud 
 
 Of little Leslie-Janey, 
 Cause she s so smart, an goes to school 
 
 Clean way in Pennsylvany ! 
 
 She print an sent a postul-card 
 
 To Uncle Sidney, telling 
 How glad he ll be to hear that she 
 
 "Toock the onners in Speling." 
 
 IV 
 
 IN THE KINDERGARTEN OF NOBLE SONG 
 
 Uncle he learns us to rhyme an write 
 An all be poets an all recite : 
 His little-est poet s his little-est niece, 
 An this is her little-est poetry-piece. 
 
 SINGS A "WINKY-TOODEN" SONG 
 
 O here s a little rhyme for the Spring- 
 
 or Summer-time 
 An a-ho-winky-tooden-an -a-ho ! 
 Just a little bit o tune you can twitter, May 
 
 or June, 
 
 448 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An a-ho-winky-tooden-an -a-ho ! 
 
 It s a song that soars and sings, 
 
 As the birds that twang their wings 
 
 Or the katydids and things 
 Thus and so, don t you know, 
 An a-ho-winky-tooden-an -a-ho ! 
 
 It s a song just broken loose, with no reason 
 
 or excuse 
 An a-ho-winky-tooden-an -a-ho ! 
 
 You can sing along with it or it matters not 
 
 a bit- 
 An a-ho-winky-tooden-an -a-ho ! 
 
 It s a lovely little thing 
 
 That most any one could sing 
 
 With a ringle-dingle-ding, 
 
 Soft and low, don t you know, 
 An a-ho-winky-tooden-an -a-ho ! 
 
 238 In Fervent Praise of Picnics 
 
 PICNICS is fun at s purty hard to beat 
 I purt nigh ruther go to them than eat 
 I purt nigh ruther go to them than go 
 With our Char/o tty to the Trick-Dog Show! 
 
 449 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Climatic Sorcery 
 
 WHEN frost s all on our winder, an the snows 
 All out-o -doors, our rt Old-Kriss"-milkman goes 
 A-drivin round, ist purt nigh froze to death, 
 With his old white mustache froze full o breath. 
 
 But when it s summer an* all warm ag in, 
 He comes a-whistlin an a-drivin in 
 Our alley, thout no coat on, ner ain t cold, 
 Ner his mustache ain t white, ner he ain t old. 
 
 240 A Dubious "Old Kriss" 
 
 US-FOLKS is purty pore but Ma 
 She s waitin two years more tet Pa 
 He serve his term out. Our Pa he 
 Pie s in the Penitenchurrie! 
 
 Now don t you tell ! cause Sis, 
 The baby, she don t know he is. 
 Cause she wuz only four, you know, 
 He kissed her last an hat to go ! 
 
 ! //odR 5JoQ->lor lT 3 ffj o) Yf^ \~ ; , i! ! EH ;!? if 
 
 Pa alluz liked Sis best of all 
 Us childern. Spect it s cause she fall 
 When she uz ist a child, one day 
 An make her back look thataway. 
 450 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Pa fore he be a burglar he s 
 A locksmiff, an maked locks, an* keys, 
 An knobs you pull fer bells to ring, 
 An he could ist make anything! 
 
 Cause our Ma say he can ! An this 
 Here little pair o crutches Sis 
 Skips round on Pa maked them yes-sir !- 
 An silivur-plate-name here fer her ! 
 
 Pa s out o work when Chris mus come 
 One time, an stay away from home, 
 An s drunk an btise our Ma, an swear 
 They ain t no "Old Kriss" anywhere ! 
 
 An Sis she alluz say they wuz 
 A Old Kriss an she alluz does. 
 But ef they is a Old Kriss, why, 
 When s Chris mus, Ma she alluz cry? 
 
 This Chris mus now, we live here in 
 Where Ma s rent s alluz due ag in 
 An* she "ist slaves" I heerd her say 
 She did ist them words thataway ! 
 
 An* th other night, when all s so cold 
 An* stove s most out our Ma she rolled 
 Us in th old feather-bed an said, 
 "To-morry s Chris mus go to bed, 
 
 451 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "An* thank yer blessed stars fer this 
 We don t sped nothin from Old Kriss !" 
 An cried, an 1 locked the door, an* prayed, 
 An* turned the lamp down. . . . An* I laid 
 
 There, thinkin in the dark ag in, 
 "Ef wuz Old Kriss, he can t git in, 
 Cause ain t no chimbly here at all 
 1st old stovepipe stuck f rue the wall !" 
 
 I sleeped nen. An* wuz dreamin some 
 When I waked up an morning s come, 
 Fer our Ma she wuz settin square 
 Straight up in bed, a-readin there 
 
 Some letter at she d read, an quit, 
 An nen hold like she s huggin it. 
 An diamon* ear-rings she don t know 
 Wuz in her ears tel I say so 
 
 m 979ff r*vil ow t wott 2 mn ah<D 8frfT 
 An* wake the rest up. An the sun 
 
 In f rue the winder dazzle-un 
 Them eyes o Sis s, wiv a sure- 
 Enough gold chain Old Kriss bringed to cr ! 
 
 I>fp3 . !>; Tto sfj *f;A 
 
 An all of us git gold things ! Sis, 
 Though, she say she know it "ain t Old Kriss 
 He kissed her, so she waked an saw 
 Him skite out an it wuz her Pa." 
 
 452 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 241 The Jaybird 
 
 THE Jaybird he s my favorite 
 Of all the birds they is! 
 I think he s quite a stylish sight 
 
 In that blue suit of his: 
 An when he lights an shuts his wings, 
 
 His coat s a "cutaway" 
 I guess it s only when he sings 
 
 You d know he wuz a jay. 
 
 fu>i 3"/I it-. ; i n ^igfi Jb?o3i 91 -:-- -4*H1 >M 
 I like to watch him when he s lit 
 
 In top of any tree, 
 Cause all birds git wite out of it 
 
 When he lights, an they see 
 How proud he act , an swell an* spread 
 
 His chest out more an more, 
 An* raise the feathers on his head 
 
 Like it s cut pompadore ! 
 
 242 A Bear Family 
 
 ! jihjn Ji!i>* &!fi33 nA ! I>jcn oa si/y/ s 
 
 WUNZT, way West in Illinoise, 
 Wuz two Bears an their two boys : 
 An the two boys names, you know, 
 Wuz like ours is, Jim an Jo ; 
 An* their parunts names wuz same s 
 All big grown-up people s names, 
 1st M\z Bear, the neigmSers call 
 Em, an Mister Bear at s all. 
 
 453 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Yes an Miz Bear scold him, too, 
 
 1st like grown folks shouldn t dol 
 
 Wuz a grea -big river there, 
 
 An , crosst that, s a mountain where 
 
 Old Bear said some day he d go, 
 
 Ef she don t quit scoldin so ! 
 
 So, one day when he been down 
 
 The river, fish in*, most to town, 
 
 An come back thout no fish a-tall, 
 
 An Jim an Jo they run an bawl 
 
 An tell their ma their pa hain t fetch* 
 
 No fish, she scold again an ketch 
 
 Her old broom up an biff him, too. 
 
 An he ist cry, an say, "Boo-hoo! 
 
 I told you what I d do some day !" 
 
 An he ist turned an runned away 
 
 To where s the grea -big river there, 
 
 An ist splunged in an swum to where 
 
 The mountain s at, way th other side, 
 
 An cliimbed up there. An Miz Bear cried 
 
 An little Jo an little Jim 
 
 Ist like their ma bofe cried fer him! 
 
 But he clumbed on, clean out o sight, 
 
 He wuz so mad ! An served em right ! 
 
 Nen when the Bear got way on top 
 
 The mountain, he heerd somepin flop 
 
 Its wings an* somepin else he heerd 
 
 A-rattfin -like. An he wuz sheered, 
 
 An looked way up, an Mercy sake! 
 
 It wuz a Eagul an a SNAKE ! 
 
 An -sir ! the Snake, he bite an* kill* 
 
 The Eagul, an they bofe fall till 
 
 454 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They strike the grgmdzK-k -spang- 
 
 Wite where the Bear wuz standin at ! 
 
 An when here come the Snake at him, 
 
 The Bear he think o little Jim 
 
 An Jo, he did an their ma, too, 
 
 All safe at home ; an he ist flew__ 
 
 Back down the mojmiain an could hear 
 
 The old Snake rattlin , sharp an clear, 
 
 Wite clos t behind ! An Bear he s so 
 
 All tired out, by time, you know, 
 
 He git down to the river^ there, 
 
 He know he can t swim back to where 
 
 His folks is at. But ist wite nen 
 
 He see a boat an six big men 
 
 At s been a-shootin ducks : An so 
 
 He skeered them out the fx>at, you know, 
 
 An ist jumped in an Sna&The tried 
 
 To jump in, too, but failed outside 
 
 Where all the water wuz ; an so 
 
 The Bear grabs one the things you row 
 
 The boat wiv an ist whacks the head 
 
 Of the old Snake an kills him dead ! 
 
 An when he s killed him dead, w y, nen 
 
 The old Snake s drownded dead again! 
 
 Nen Bear set in the boat an bowed 
 
 His back an rowed an rowed an rowed 
 
 Till he s safe home so tired he can t 
 
 Do nothin but lay there an pant 
 
 An tell his childern, "Bresh my coat !" 
 
 An tell his wife, "Go chain my boat!" 
 
 An they re so glad he s back, they say 
 
 "They knowed he s comin thataway 
 
 -455 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 To ist su prise the dear ones there !" 
 An Jim an To they dried his hair 
 An pulled the burrs out ; an v their ma 
 She ist set there an helt his paw 
 Till he wuz sound asleep, an nen 
 She tell him she won t scold again 
 
 Never never never 
 
 Ferever an f erever ! 
 
 Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum- 
 
 OLD Man Whiskery- Whee-Kum-Wheeze 
 Lives way up in the leaves o trees. 
 An* wunst I slipped up-stairs to play 
 In Aunty s room, while she uz away; 
 An I clumbed up in her cushion-chair 
 An ist peeked out o* the winder there ; 
 An there I saw wite out in the trees 
 Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze ! 
 
 An Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze 
 Would bow an bow, with the leaves in the breeze, 
 An waggle his whiskers an raggledy hair, 
 An bow to me in the winder there ! 
 An I d peek out, an he d peek in 
 An* waggle his whiskers an bow ag in, 
 Ist like the leaves u d wave in the breeze 
 Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze ! 
 
 456 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze, 
 Seem-like, says to me : "See my bees 
 A-bringin my dinner ? An see my cup 
 O locus -blossoms they ve plum filled up?" 
 An "Um-yum, honey!" wuz last he said, 
 An waggled his whiskers an bowed his head ; 
 An I yells, "Gimme some, won t you, please, 
 Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze ?" 
 
 24 1 Littlc-Girl-Tu<o~Littlc-Girls 
 
 I M twins, I guess, cause my Ma say 
 I m two little girls. An one o me 
 Is Good little girl ; an th other n she 
 Is Bad little girl as she can be! 
 
 An Ma say so, most ever day. 
 
 :. nn ,?3 i 
 
 An she s the funniest Ma ! Cause when 
 My Doll won t mind, an I ist cry, 
 W y, nen my Ma she sob an sigh, 
 An say, "Dear Good little girl, good-by !- 
 
 Bad little girl s corned here again !" 
 
 Last time at Ma act thataway, 
 I cried all to myse f a while 
 Out on the steps, an nen I smile. 
 An git my Doll all fix in style, 
 
 An go in where Ma s at, an say: 
 
 457 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "Morning to you, Mommy dear! 
 Where s that Bad little girl wuz here? 
 Bad little girl s goned clean away, 
 An Good little girl s corned back to stay. 
 
 245 A Gustatory Achievement 
 
 E^ST Thanksgivin -dinner we 
 Et at Granny s house, an she 
 Had ist like she alluz does 
 Most an best pies ever wuz. 
 
 Canned blackburry-pie. an goosc- 
 Burry, squshin -full o juice; 
 An* ro^rburry yes, an plum 
 Yes, an churry-pie um-yum! 
 
 Peach an punkin, too, you bet. 
 Lawzy ! I kin taste em yet ! 
 Yes, an custard-pie, an mince! 
 
 An I ain t et no pie since ! 
 
 246 A Parent Reprimanded 
 
 SOMETIMES I think at Parunts does 
 Things ist about as bad as us 
 Wite fore our vurry eyes, at that ! 
 Per one time Pa he scold my Ma 
 Cause he can t find his hat; 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An* she ist cried, she did ! An I 
 Says, "Ef you scold my Ma 
 
 Ever again an make her cry, 
 W y, you shan t be my Pa !" 
 
 An* nen he laugh an find his hat 
 
 Ist wite where Ma she said it s at! 
 
 247 "Company Manners 
 
 WHEN Bess gave her dollies a Tea, said she, 
 "It s unpolite, when they s Company, 
 To say you ve drinked two cups, you see, 
 But say you ve drinked a couple of tea." 
 
 in e. bno o/ii 829 J ) 
 459 
 
THE BOYS OF THE OLD 
 GLEE CLUB 
 
 248 The Boys of the Old Glee Club 
 
 Y 
 
 rOU-FOLKS rickollect, I know 
 Tain t so very long ago 
 Th Old Glee Club was got up here 
 Bout first term Grant tuk the Cheer 
 Per President four year and then 
 Riz and tuk the thing again ! 
 Politics was runnin high, 
 And the Soldiers mighty nigh 
 Swep the Country bout on par 
 With their ricord through the War. 
 Glee Club, mainly, Soldiers, too 
 Most the Boys had wore the blue, 
 So their singin had the swing 
 Kind o sort o Shiloh-ring, 
 Don t you know, at kind o got 
 Clean inside a man and shot 
 Telegrams o joy dee-vine 
 Up and down his mortal spine ! 
 They was jest boys then, all young 
 And bout lively as they sung ! 
 Now they hain t young any more 
 ( Less the ones at s gore before 
 460 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 S got their youth back, glad and free 
 
 N keerless as they used to be !) 
 
 Burgess Brown s old friends all low 
 
 He is most as lively now, 
 
 And as full o music, too, 
 
 As when Old Glee Club was : iew ! 
 
 And John Blake, you mind, ; at had 
 
 The near-sightedness so bad, 
 
 When he sung by note, the rest 
 
 Read em f er him, er he guessed 
 
 How they run and sung em, too, 
 
 Clair and sweet as honey-dew ! 
 
 Harry Adams s here and he s 
 
 Jollyin ever man he sees 
 
 At complains o gittin* gray 
 
 Er a-agein anyway. 
 
 Harry he jest thrives on fun 
 
 "Troubles ?" he says, "Nary one ! 
 
 Got gran -children I can play 
 
 And keep young with, night and day !" 
 
 Then there s Ozzy Weaver he s 
 
 Kickin , lively as you please, 
 
 N Dearie Mary. Called em then 
 
 "The Cherubs." Sung "We are two Men 
 
 O th Olden Time." Well ! their duets 
 
 Was jest sweet as violets ! 
 
 And Dan Ransdell he s still here 
 
 Not jest in the town, but near 
 
 Enough, you bet, to allus come 
 
 Prompt on time to vote at home! 
 
 Dan he s be n in Washington 
 
 461 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Sence he went with Harrison. . . . 
 
 And John Slauson (Boys called John 
 
 "Sloppy Weather.") he went on 
 
 Once to Washington ; and Dan 
 
 Intertained him: Ever man, 
 
 From the President, to all 
 
 Other big-guns Dan could haul 
 
 In posish ud have to shake 
 
 Hands with John fer old times sake. 
 
 And to hear John, when he got 
 
 Home again, w y, you d a caught 
 
 His own sperit and dry fun 
 
 And mis-c/nVz^-y-ousness at run 
 
 Through his talk of all he see : 
 
 "Ruther pokey there, fer me" 
 
 John says, "though, of course, I met 
 
 Mostly jest the Cabinet 
 
 Members ; and the President 
 
 He d drop round : and then we went 
 
 Incogg fer a quiet walk 
 
 Er sometimes jest set and talk 
 
 Bout old times back here and how 
 
 All vow-boys was doin now, 
 
 And Old Glee Club songs ; and then 
 
 He d say, f he could, once again, 
 
 Jest hear us once more says he, 
 
 I d shed Washington, D. C, 
 
 And jest fall in ranks with you 
 
 And march home, a-singin , too ! " 
 
 And Bob Geiger Now lives down 
 
 At Atlanty, but this town 
 
 462 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 S got Bob s heart a permanent 
 
 And time-honored resident. 
 
 Then there s Mahlon Butler still 
 
 Lookin like he allus will! 
 
 "How you f eelin ?" s l, last time 
 
 I see Mahlon : N he says, "I m 
 
 F eelin ?" says, "so peert and gay 
 
 F I s hitched up I d run away!" 
 
 He says, "Course I m bald a bit, 
 
 But not nough to brag on it 
 
 Like Dave Wallace does," he says, 
 
 "With his two shamef acetedness !" 
 
 (Dave jest laughs and lifts his "dice" 
 
 At the joke, and blushes twice.) 
 
 And Ed. Thompson, he s gone on 
 
 They s a whole quartette at s gone 
 
 Yes, a whole quartette, and more, 
 
 Has crossed on the Other Shore. . . . 
 
 Sabold and Doc Wood ard s gone 
 
 N Ward; and last, Will Tarkington.- 
 
 Ward at made an Irish bull 
 
 Actchully jest beautiful! 
 
 " Big-nose Ben, " says Ward, "I s pose, 
 
 Makes an eyesore of his nose!" 
 
 And Will Tarkington Ef he 
 
 Ever had an inemy, 
 
 The Good Bein s plans has be n 
 
 Tampered with ! because all men, 
 
 Women and childern ever one 
 
 Loved to love Will Tarkington ! 
 
 The last time I heerd em all 
 
 Was at Tomilsonian Hall, 
 
 463 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 As I rickollect and know, 
 Must be n fifteen year ago! 
 Big Mass Meetin thousands here. . . 
 Old Dick Thompson in the Cheer 
 On the stage and three er four 
 Other "Silver-Tongues" er more ! . . . 
 Mind Ben Harrison? Clean, rich, 
 Ringin voice " bout concert-pitch," 
 Tarkington he called it, and 
 Said its music clipsed the band 
 And Glee Club both rolled in one ! 
 ( Course you all knowed Harrison!) 
 Yes, and Old Flag, streamin clean 
 From the high arch bove the scene 
 And each side the Speaker s stand. 
 And a Brass, and Sheepskin Band, 
 ( Twixt the speeches at was made) 
 At cut loose and banged and played 
 S pose, to have the noise all through 
 So s the crowd could listen to 
 Some real music ! Then Th Old Glee 
 Club marched out to victory ! 
 And sich singin ! Boys was jest 
 At their very level-best ! . . . 
 My! to hear em! From old "Red- 
 White-and-Blue," to "Uncle Ned" ! 
 From "The Sword of Bunker Hill," 
 To "Billy Magee-Magaw" ! And still 
 The more they sung, the more, you know, 
 The crowd jest -wouldn t let em go ! 
 Till they reached the final notch 
 O glory with old "Larboard Watch" ! 
 
 464 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Well ! that song s a song my soul 
 Jest swings off in, past control ! 
 Allus did and allus will 
 Lift me clair of earthly ill 
 And interrogance and doubt 
 O what the good Lord s workin out 
 Anyway er anyhow! * ;^fi?q4 oj 
 Shet my eyes and hear it now! 
 Till, at night, that ship and sea 
 And wet waves jest wallers me 
 Into that same sad yet glad 
 Certainty the Sailor had 
 When waked to his watch and ward 
 By th lone whisper of the Lord 
 Heerd high bove the hoarsest roar 
 O any storm on sea er shore ! 
 
 Time s be n clockin on, you know ! 
 
 Sabold, who was first to go, 
 
 Died back East, in ninety-three, 
 
 At his old home, Albany : 
 
 Ward was next to leave us Died 
 
 New York. . . . How we laughed and 
 
 cried 
 
 Both together at them two 
 Friends and comards tried and true ! 
 Ner they wasn t, when they died, 
 Parted long most side-by-side 
 They went singin , you might say, 
 Till their voices died away 
 Kind o into a duet 
 O silence they re rehearsin yet. 
 
 465 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Old Glee Club s be n meetin less 
 And less frequenter, I guess, 
 Sence so many s had to go 
 And the rest all miss em so ! 
 Still they s calls they got to make, 
 Fer old reputation s sake, 
 So to speak ; but, course, they all 
 Can t jest answer ever call 
 Ceptin Christmas-times, er when 
 Charity calls on em then ; 
 And not chargln anything 
 W y, the Boys s jest got to sing! . 
 Campaign work, and jubilees 
 To wake up the primaries ; 
 Loyal Legions G. A. R. s 
 Big Reunions Stripes-and-Stars 
 Fer Schoolhouses ever where 
 And Church-doin s, here and there 
 And Me-morial Meetin s, when 
 Our War-Gov ner lives again ! 
 Yes, and Decoration Days 
 Martial music prayers and praise 
 Fer the Boys at marched away 
 So s we d have a place to stay ! . . 
 Little childern, mongst the flowers, 
 Learnin bout this Land of Ours, 
 And the price these Soldiers paid, 
 Gethered in their last parade. . . . 
 O that sweetest, saddest sound! 
 "Tenting on the old Campground. 
 The Old Glee Club singin so 
 Quaverin -like and soft and low, 
 
 466 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Ever listener in the crowd 
 
 Sings in whispers but, out loud, 
 
 Sings as ef he didn t keer 
 
 Not fer no thin I . . . Ketch me here 
 
 Whilse I m honest, and I ll say 
 
 God s way is the only way! . ]/-. 
 
 So I allus felt, i jing! 
 
 Ever time the Boys ud sing 
 
 Bout "A Thousand Years, my Own 
 
 Columbia !" er "The Joys we ve Known" 
 
 "Hear dem Bells" er "Hi-lo, Hail !" 
 
 I have felt God must prevail 
 
 Jest like ever boy at s gone 
 
 Of em all, whilse he was on 
 
 Deck here with us, seemed to be 
 
 Livin , laughin proof, to me, 
 
 Of Eternal Life No more 
 
 Will than them all, gone before ! . . , 
 
 Can t I many-a-time jest see 
 
 Them all, like they used to be ! 
 
 Tarkington, fer instance, clean 
 
 Outside o the man you seen, 
 
 Singin till not only you 
 
 Heerd his voice but felt it, too, 
 
 In back of the bench you set 
 
 In And most can feel it yet ! 
 
 Yes, and Will s the last o five 
 
 Now that s dead yet still alive, 
 
 True as Holy Writ s own word 
 
 Has be n spoke and man has heerd ! 
 
 Them was left when W 7 ill went on 
 
 Has met once sence he was gone 
 
 467 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Met jest once but not to sing 
 
 Ner to practise anything. 
 
 Facts is, they jest didn t know 
 
 Why they was a-meetin so ; 
 
 But John Brush he had it done 
 
 And invited ever one 
 
 Of em he could find, to call 
 
 At his office, "Music Hall," 
 
 Four o clock one Saturd y 
 
 Afternoon. And this was three 
 
 Er four weeks, mind, sence the day 
 
 We had laid poor Will away. 
 
 Mahlon Butler he come past 
 
 My shop, and I dropped my last 
 
 And went with him, wonder n , too, 
 
 What new joke Brush had in view ; 
 
 But, when all got there, and one- 
 
 By-one was give a seat, and none 
 
 O Brush s twinkles seemed in sight, 
 
 N he looked bis all right, all right, 
 
 We saw when he d locked the door 
 
 What some of us, years before, 
 
 Had seen, and long sence fergot 
 
 (Seen but not heerd, like as not.) 
 
 How Brush, once when Admiral Brown 
 
 S back here in his old home-town 
 
 And flags ever wheres and Old 
 
 Glee Club tellin George to "Hold 
 
 The Fort !" and "We" would "make em flee 
 
 By land and sea," et cetery, 
 
 How Brush had got the Boys to sing 
 
 A song in that-there very thing 
 
 468 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Was on the table there to-day 
 
 Some kind o phone, you know. But say! 
 
 When John touched it off, and we 
 
 Heerd it singin No-sir-ee ! 
 
 Not the machine a-singin No, 
 
 Th Old Glee Club o long ago ! . . . 
 
 There was Sab old s voice again 
 
 N Ward s; and, sweet as summer-rain, 
 
 With glad boy-laugh ture s trills and runs, 
 
 Ed. Thompson s voice and Tarkington s! . 
 
 And ah, to hear them, through the storm 
 
 Of joy that swayed each listener s form 
 
 Seeming to call, with hail and cheer, 
 
 From Heaven s high seas down to us here :- 
 
 "But who can speak the joy he feels 
 While o er the foam his vessel reels, 
 And his tired eyelids slumbering fall, 
 He rouses at the welcome call 
 Of Larboard Watch, Ahoy! " 
 
 SipteH^iljfifw And O 
 To hear them same as long ago 
 The listeners whispered, still as death, 
 With trembling lips and broken breath, 
 As with one voice and eyes all wet, 
 "Goo! God! Thank God, they re singing 
 yet!" 
 
 469 
 
A DEFECTIVE SANTA CLAUS 
 
 249 A Defective Santa Clans 
 
 Little Boy! Halloo! halloo! 
 Can t you hear me calling you? 
 Little Boy that used to be, 
 Come in here and play with me. 
 
 A~_XUS when our Pa he s away 
 Nen Uncle Sidney comes to stay 
 At our house here so Ma an me 
 An Etty an Lee-Bob won t be 
 Afeard ef anything at night 
 Might happen like Ma says it might 
 (Ef Trip wuz big, I bet you he 
 Uz best watch-dog you ever see!) 
 An so last winter ist before 
 It s go be Chris mus-Day, w y, shore 
 Enough, Pa had to haf to go 
 To tend a lawsuit "An the snow 
 Ist right f er Santy Claus !" Pa said, 
 As he dumb in old Ayersuz sled, 
 An* say he s sorry he can t be 
 With us that night" Cause," he-says-ee, 
 "Old Santy might be comin here 
 This very night of all the year 
 F got to be away ! so all 
 You kids must tell him ef he call 
 470 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 He s mighty welcome, an yer Pa 
 He left his love with you an Ma 
 An Uncle Sid !" An clucked, an leant 
 Back, laughin an away they went ! 
 An Uncle wave his hands an yells 
 "Yer old horse ort to have on bells !" 
 But Pa yell back an laugh an say 
 "I spect when Santy come this way 
 It s time enough f er sleighbells nen !" 
 An holler back "Good-by !" again, 
 An reach out with the driver s whip 
 An cut behind an drive back Trip. 
 
 An so all day it snowed an snowed ! 
 An Lee-Bob he ist watched the road, 
 In his high-chair ; an Etty she 
 Ud play with Uncie Sid an me 
 Like she wuz he ppin fetch in wood 
 An keepin old fire goin good, 
 Where Ma she wuz a-cookin there 
 In kitchen, too, an ever where ! 
 An* Uncle say, " At s ist the way 
 Yer Ma s b en workin , night an day, 
 Sence she hain t big as Etty is 
 Er Lee-Bob in that chair o his !" 
 Nen Ma she d laugh t what Uncle said, 
 An smack an smoove his old bald head 
 An say "Clear out the way till I 
 Can keep that pot from b ilin dry!" 
 Nen Uncle, when she s gone back to 
 The kitchen, says, "We ust to do 
 
 471 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Some cookin in the ashes. Say, 
 S posin we try some, thataway !" 
 An nen he send us to tell Ma 
 Send two big taters in he saw 
 Pa s b en keepin cause they got 
 The premium at the Fair ! An what 
 You think? He rake a grea -big hole 
 In the hot ashes, an he roll 
 Them old big taters in the place 
 An rake the coals back an his face 
 1st swettin so s he purt nigh swear 
 Cause it s so hot ! An when they re there 
 Bout time at we fergit em, he 
 1st rake em out again an gee! 
 He bu st em with his fist wite on 
 A old stove-led, while Etty s gone 
 To git the salt; an butter, too 
 1st like he said she haf to do, 
 No matter what Ma say ! An so 
 He salt an butter em, an blow 
 Em cool enough f er us to eat 
 An mc-o-my! they re hard to beat! 
 An Trip ud ist lay there an pant 
 Like he d laugh out loud, but he can t 
 Nen Uncle fill his pipe an* we 
 Ud he p him light it Sis an me, 
 But mostly little Lee-Bob, cause 
 "He s the best Lighter ever wuz !" 
 Like Uncle telled him wunst when Lee- 
 Bob cried an jerked the light from me, 
 He wuz so mad ! So Uncle pat 
 An pet him (Lee-Bob s ust to that 
 
 472 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Cause he s the little-est, you know, 
 
 An allus has b en humored so!) 
 
 Nen Uncle gits the flat-arn out, 
 
 An , while he s tellin* us all bout 
 
 Old Chris mus-times when he s a kid, 
 
 He ist cracked hickernuts, he did, 
 
 Till they s a crockful, mighty nigh ! 
 
 An when they re all done by an by, 
 
 He raked the red coals out again 
 
 An telled me, "Fetch that popcorn in, 
 
 An old three-leggud skillut an 
 
 The led an all now, little man, 
 
 An yer old Uncle here ull show 
 
 You how corn s popped, long years ago 
 
 When me an Santy Glaus wuz boys 
 
 On Pap s old place in Illinoise ! 
 
 An your Pa, too, wuz chums, all through,. 
 
 With Santy ! Wisht Pa d be here, too !" 
 
 Nen Uncle sigh at Ma, an she 
 
 Pat him again, an say to me 
 
 An Etty, "You take warning fair ! 
 
 Don t talk too much, like Uncle there, 
 
 Ner don t fergit, like him, my dears, 
 
 That little pitchers has big ears! " 
 
 But Uncle say to her, "Clear out ! 
 
 Yer brother knows what he s about. 
 
 You git your Chris mus-cookin done 
 
 Er these pore childern won t have none !" 
 
 Nen Trip wake up an raise , an nen 
 
 Turn roun an nen lay down again. 
 
 An one time Uncle Sidney say, 
 
 "When dogs is sleepin thataway, 
 
 473 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Like Trip, an whimpers, it s a sign 
 
 He ll ketch eight rabbits mayby nine 
 
 Afore his fleas ll wake him nen 
 
 He ll bite hisse f to sleep again 
 
 An try to dream he s go ketch ten." 
 
 An when Ma s gone again back in 
 
 The kitchen, Uncle scratch his chin 
 
 An say, "When Santy Clans an Pa 
 
 An me wuz little boys an Ma, 
 
 When she s bout big as Etty there ; 
 
 W y, When we re growed no matter where, 
 
 Santy he cross his heart an say 
 
 Til come to see you, all, some day 
 
 When you got childerns all but me 
 
 An pore old Sid ! " Nen Uncle he 
 
 1st kind o shade his eyes an pour 
 
 Bout forty- leven bushels more 
 
 O popcorn out the skillut there 
 
 In Ma s new basket on the chair. 
 
 An nen he telled us an talk low, 
 
 "So Ma can t hear," he say : "You know 
 
 Yer Pa know , when he drived away, 
 
 To-morry s go be Chris mus-Day; 
 
 Well, nen to-night," he whisper, "see? 
 
 It s go be Chris mus-z^/ says-ee, 
 
 "An , like yer Pa hint, when he went, 
 
 Old Santy Claus (now hush!) he s sent 
 
 Yer Pa a postul-card, an write 
 
 He s shorely go be here to-night. . . 
 
 That s why yer Pa s so bored to be 
 
 Away to-night, when Santy he 
 
 474 
 
 
 in 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Is go be here, sleighbells an* all, 
 
 To make you kids a Chris mus-call !" 
 
 An we re so glad to know fer shore 
 
 He s comin , I roll on the floor 
 
 An here come Trip a-waller n roun 
 
 An purt nigh knock the clo es-horse down ! 
 
 An* Etty grab Lee-Bob an prance 
 
 All roun the room like it s a dance 
 
 Till Ma she come an march us nen 
 
 To dinner, where we re still again, 
 
 But tickled so we ist can t eat 
 
 But pie, an ist the hot mincemeat 
 
 With raisins in. But Uncle et, 
 
 An Ma. An there they set an set 
 
 Till purt nigh supper-time ; nen we 
 
 Tell him he s got to fix the Tree 
 
 Fore Santy gits here, like he said. 
 
 We go nen to the old woodshed 
 
 All bundled up, through the deep snow 
 
 "An snowin yet, jee-rooshy-O!" 
 
 Uncle he said, an he p us wade 
 
 Back where s the Chris mus-Tree he s made 
 
 Out of a little jackoak-top 
 
 He git down at the sawmill-shop 
 
 An Trip ud run ahead, you know, 
 
 An* tend-like he uz eatin snow 
 
 When we all waddle back with it; 
 
 An Uncle set it up an git 
 
 It wite in front the fireplace cause 
 
 He says " Tain t so at Santy Claus 
 
 Comes down all chimblies, least, to-night 
 
 He s comin in this house all right 
 
 475 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 By the front-door, as ort to be! 
 We ll all be hid where we can see!" 
 Nen he look up, an* he see Ma 
 An* say, "It s ist too bad their Pa 
 Can t be here, so s to see the fun 
 The childern will have, ever one !" 
 
 Well, we! We hardly couldn t wait 
 
 Till it wuz dusk, an dark an late 
 
 Enough to light the lamp ! An Lee- 
 
 Bob light a candle on the Tree 
 
 "1st one cause I m The Lighter !" Nen 
 
 He dumb on Uncle s knee again 
 
 An hug us bofe; an Etty git 
 
 Her little chist an set on it 
 
 Wite clos t, while Uncle telled some more 
 
 Bout Santy Claus, an clo es he wore 
 
 "All maked o furs, an trimmed as white 
 
 As cotton is, er snow at night!" 
 
 An nen, all sudden-like, he say, 
 
 "Hush! Listen there! Hain t that a sleigh 
 
 An sleighbells jinglin f" Trip go "whooh!" 
 
 Like he hear bells and smell em, too. 
 
 Nen we all listen. . . . An -sir, shore 
 
 Enough, we hear bells more an more 
 
 A-jinglin clos ter clos ter still 
 
 Down the old crook-road roun the hill. 
 
 An Uncle he jumps up, an all 
 
 The chairs he jerks back by the wall 
 
 An th ows a overcoat an pair 
 
 O winder-curtains over there 
 
 476 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An says, "Hide quick, er you re too late! 
 Them bells is stoppin at the gate! 
 Git back o them-air chairs an hide, 
 Cause I hear Santy s voice outside!" 
 An Bang! bang! bang! we heerd the door 
 Nen it flewed open, an the floor 
 Blowed full o snow that s first we saw, 
 Till little Lee-Bob shriek at Ma 
 "There s Santy Claus! / know him by 
 His big white mufftash!" an ist cry 
 An laugh an squeal an dance an yell 
 Till, when he quiet down a spell, 
 Old Santy bow an* th ow a kiss 
 To him an* one to me an Sis 
 An nen go clos t to Ma an stoop 
 An kiss her An nen give a whoop 
 That fainted her ! Cause when he bent 
 An kiss her, he ist backed an went 
 Wite g inst the Chris mus-Tree ist where 
 The candle s at Lee-Bob lit there ! 
 An set his white-fur belt afire 
 An blaze streaked roun his waist an higher 
 Wite up his old white beard an th oat ! 
 Nen Uncle grabs th old overcoat 
 An flops it over Santy s head, 
 An swing the door wide back an said, 
 "Come out, old man ! an quick about 
 It! I ve ist got to put you out!" 
 An out he sprawled him in the snow 
 "Now roll!" he szys Hi-roll-ce-O!" 
 An Santy, sputter n "Ouch! Gee-whiz!" 
 Ist roll an roll f er all they is ! 
 
 477 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An Trip he s out there, too, I know, 
 Cause I could hear him yappin so 
 An I heerd Santy, wunst er twic t, 
 Say, as he s rollin , "Drat the fice t!" 
 Nen Uncle come back in, an shake 
 Ma up, an say, "Per mercy-sake! 
 He hain t hurt none !" An nen he said, 
 "You youngsters h ist up-stairs to bed ! 
 Here ! kiss yer Ma Good night, an me, 
 We ll he p old Santy fix the Tree 
 An all yer whistles, horns an* drums 
 I ll he p you toot when morning comes !" 
 
 It s a long while fore we go to sleep, 
 
 Cause down-stairs, all-time somepin keep 
 
 A-kind o scufflin roun the floors 
 
 An openin doors, an shettin doors 
 
 An could hear Trip a-whinin , too, 
 
 Like he don t know ist what to do 
 
 An tongs a-clankin down k thump! 
 
 Nen some one squonkin* the old pump 
 
 An Wooh! how cold it soun out there! 
 
 I could ist see the pump-spout where 
 
 It s got ice chin-whiskers all wet 
 
 An drippy An I see it yet ! 
 
 An nen, seem-like, I hear some mens 
 
 A-talkin out there by the fence, 
 
 An one says, "Oh, bout twelve o clock !" 
 
 "Nen," nother n says, "Here s to you, Doc ! 
 
 God bless us ever one!" An nen 
 
 I heerd the old pump squonk again. 
 
 478 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An nen I say my prayer all through 
 
 Like Uncle Sidney learn me to, 
 
 "O Father mine, e en as Thine own, 
 
 This child looks up to Thee alone : 
 
 Asleep or waking, give him still 
 
 His Elder Brother s wish and will." 
 
 An that s the last I know . . . Till Ma 
 
 She s callin us an so is Pa, 
 
 He holler "Chris mus-gif !" an say, 
 
 "I m got back home f er Chris mus-Day ! 
 
 An Uncle Sid s here, too an he 
 
 Is nibblin roun yer Chris mus-Tree !" 
 
 Nen Uncle holler, "I suppose 
 
 Yer Pa s so proud he s froze his nose 
 
 He wants to turn it up at us, 
 
 Cause Santy kick up such a fuss 
 
 Tetchin hisse f off same as ef 
 
 He wuz his own fireworks hisse f !" 
 
 An when we re down-stairs, shore enough, 
 Pa s nose is froze, an salve an stuff 
 All on it an one hand s froze, too, 
 An got a old yarn red-and-blue 
 Mitt on it "An* he s froze some more 
 Acrost his chist, an kind o sore 
 All roun his rfy-fram," Uncle say. 
 "But Pa he d ort a-seen- the way 
 Santy bear up last night when that- 
 Air fire break out, an quicker n scat 
 He s all a-blazin , an them- air 
 Gun-cotton whiskers that he wear 
 
 479 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 1st flashin ! till I burn a hole 
 
 In the snow with him, an he roll 
 
 The front-yard dry as Chris mus jokes 
 
 Old parents plays on little folks ! 
 
 But, long s a smell o tow er wool, 
 
 I kep him rollin beautiful! 
 
 Till I wuz shore I shorely see 
 
 He s squenched! W y, hadn t b en fer me, 
 
 That old man might a-burnt clear down 
 
 Clean plum level with the groun !" 
 
 Nen Ma say, "There, Sid ; that ll do ! 
 
 Breakfast is ready Chris mus, too. 
 
 Your voice ud soun best, sayin Grace 
 
 Say it." An Uncle bow his face 
 
 An say so long a Blessing nen, 
 
 Trip bark two times fore it s "A-men I" 
 
 ris li rro HA 
 
 bio r, ;..^ a A 
 " 4i no j.nM 
 
 480 
 
XOOH y 
 
 RUBAIYAT OF DOC SIFERS 
 
 brie iffn miH -fr- 
 
 Ritbdiydt of Doc Sifers 
 
 IF you don t know Doc SIFERS I ll jes argy, here and now, 
 You ve bin a mighty little while about here, anyhow, 
 Cause Doc he s rid these roads and woods er swum em, 
 
 now and then 
 And practised in this neighberhood sence hain t no tellin 
 
 when ! 
 " ,.v_ .-Vy.-(-,\v i i\ boraoJ^-K )ori o iif 
 
 In radius o fifteen mil d, all p ints o compass round, 
 
 No man er woman, chick er child, er team, on top o 
 
 ground, 
 But knows him yes, and got respects and likin fer him, 
 
 too, 
 Fer all his so-to-speak dee-f ects o genius showin through ! 
 
 Some claims he s absent-minded; some has said they wuz 
 
 afeard 
 To take his powders when he come and dosed em out, and 
 
 peared 
 To have his mind on somepin else like County Ditch, er 
 
 some 
 New way o tannin mussrat-pelts, er makin butler come. 
 
 He s cur ous they hain t no mistake about it ! but he s got 
 Enough o extry brains to make a fury like as not. 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They s no dcscribin Sifers, fer, when all is said and done, 
 He s jes hisse f Doc Sifers ner they hain t no other one! 
 
 Doc s allus sociable, polite, and greeable, you ll find 
 Pervidin ef you strike him right and nothin on his mind, 
 Like in some hurry, when they ve sent fer Sifers quick, you 
 
 see, 
 To tend some sawmill-accident, er picnic jamboree; 
 
 Er when the lightin s struck some harebrained harvest- 
 hand ; er in 
 
 Some tempt o suicidin where they d ort to try ag in ! 
 
 I ve knozved Doc haul up from a trot and talk a hour er 
 two 
 
 When railly he d a-ort o not a-stopped fer "Howdy-do!" 
 
 And then, I ve met him long the road, a-lopin , starin 
 
 straight 
 Ahead, and yit he never knowed me when I hollered 
 
 "Yate, 
 Old Saddlebags!" all hearty-like, er "Who you goin to 
 
 kill?" 
 And he d say nothin only hike on faster, starin still ! 
 
 I d bin insulted, many a time, ef I jes wuzn t shore 
 Doc didn t mean a thing. And I m not tetchy any more 
 Sence that-air day, ef he d a-jes a-stopped to jaw with me, 
 They d bin a little dorter less in my own f ambily ! 
 
 Times now, at home, when Sifers name comes up, I jes 
 
 let on, 
 You know, at 7 think Doc s to blame, the way he s bin and 
 
 gone 
 
 482 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And disappointed folks L\-jce-mun-nee! you d ort to then 
 Jes hear my wife light into me "ongratefulest o men!" 
 
 Mongst all the women mild er rough, splendiferous er 
 
 plain, 
 Er them with sense, er not enough to come in out the 
 
 rain, 
 
 Jes ever shape and build and style o women, fat er slim 
 They all like Doc, and got a smile and pleasant word fer 
 
 him! 
 
 Ner hain t no horse I ve ever saw but what ll neigh and try 
 To sidle up to him, and paw, and sense him, ear-and-eye : 
 Then jes a tetch o Doc s old pa m, to pat em, er to shove 
 Along their nose and they re as ca m as any cooin dove ! 
 
 And same with dogs, take any breed, er strain, er pedi 
 gree, 
 
 Er racial caste at can t concede no use fer you er me, 
 They ll putt all predju-dice aside in Doc s case and go in 
 Kahoots with him, as satisfied as he wuz kith-and-kin ! 
 
 And Doc s a wonder, trainin pets ! He s got a chicken- 
 hawk, 
 
 j In kind o half-cage, where he sets out in the gyarden-walk, 
 And got that wild bird trained so tame, he ll loose him, and 
 
 he ll fly 
 
 ! Clean to the woods ! Doc calls his name and he ll come, 
 by and by ! 
 
 Some says no money down ud buy that bird o Doc. 
 
 Ner no 
 Inducement to the bird, says I, at he d let Sifers go ! 
 
 483 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And Doc ne say at he s content long as a bird o prey 
 Kin bide him, it s a compliment, and takes it thataway. 
 
 But, gittin back to docterin a.\l the sick and in distress, 
 And old and pore, and weak and small, and lone and moth 
 erless, 
 
 I jes tell you I predate the man at s got the love 
 To "go ye forth and ministrate !" as Scriptur tells us of. 
 
 Dull times, Doc jes mtanders round, in that old rig o his : 
 And hain t no tellin where he s bound ner guessin where 
 
 he is ; 
 
 He ll drive, they tell, jes thataway fer maybe six er eight 
 Days at a stretch ; and neighbers say he s bin clean round 
 
 the State. 
 
 He picked a old tramp up, one trip, bout eighty mil d from 
 
 here. 
 And fetched him home and k-yored his hip, and kep him 
 
 bout a year ; 
 
 And feller said in all his ja nts round this terreschul ball 
 At no man wuz a circumstance to Doc! he topped em 
 
 all! 
 
 Said, bark o trees s a open book to Doc, and vines and 
 
 moss 
 He read like writin with a look knowed ever dot and 
 
 cross : 
 Said, stars at night wuz jes as good s a compass: said, he 
 
 s pose 
 You couldn t lose Doc in the woods the darkest night that 
 
 blows ! 
 
 484 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Said, Doc ll tell you, purty clos t, by unclerbresh and plants. 
 How fur off carter is, and most perdict the sort o 
 
 chance 
 
 You ll have o findin fish; and how they re liable to bite, 
 And whether they re a-bitin now, er only after night. 
 
 And, whilse we re talkin* fish, I mind they formed a 
 
 fishin -crowd 
 (When folks could fish thout gittin fined, and seinin wuz 
 
 allowed !) 
 
 O leadin citizens, you know, to go and seine "Old Blue" 
 But hadn t no big seine, and so w y, what wuz they to 
 
 do? ... 
 
 And Doc he say he thought at he could knit a stitch er 
 
 two 
 
 "Bring the materials to me at s all I m astin you !" 
 And down he sets six weeks, i jing! and knits that seine 
 
 plum done 
 Made corks, too, brails and ever thing good as a boughten 
 
 one! 
 
 Doc s public sperit when the sick s not takin all his time 
 And he s got some f er politics is simple yit sublime : 
 He ll talk his principles and they air honest ; but the sly 
 Friend strikes him first, election-day, he d commodate, er 
 
 die 
 -moo --T^mnK tcii) Jog bus ,ilJo:rd-n3>bifb Jadt balid bnA 
 
 And yit, though Doc, as all men knows, is square straight 
 
 up and down, 
 That vote o his is well, I s pose the cheapest one in 
 
 town ; 
 
 485 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 A fact at s sad to verify, as could be done on oath 
 I ve voted Doc myse f And I was criminal fer both! 
 
 You kin corrupt the ballot-box corrupt yourse f, as well 
 Corrupt some neighbers, but old Doc s as oncorruptible 
 As Holy Writ. So putt a pin right there ! Let Sifers be, 
 I jucks ! he wouldn t vote ag in his own worst inimy ! 
 
 When Cynthy Eubanks laid so low with fever, and Doc 
 
 Glenn 
 Told Euby Cynth ud haf to go they sends fer Sifers 
 
 then! . . . 
 Doc sized the case : "She s starved," says he, "fer warter 
 
 yes, and meat! 
 The treatment at she ll git from me s all she kin drink and 
 
 eat !" 
 
 He orders Euby then to split some wood, and take and 
 
 build 
 A fire in kitchen-stove, and git a young spring-chicken 
 
 killed; 
 And jes whirled in and th owed his hat and coat there on 
 
 the bed, 
 And warshed his hands and sailed in that-air kitchen, 
 
 Euby said, 
 
 And biled that chicken-broth, and got that dinner all com - 
 
 plete 
 
 And clean and crisp and good and hot as mortal ever eat ! 
 And Cynth and Euby both ll say at Doc ll git as good 
 Meals-vittles up, jes any day, as any woman could! 
 
 486 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Time Sister Abbick tuk so bad with striffen o the lung, 
 P tracted Meetin , where she had jes shouted, prayed, and 
 
 sung 
 All winter long, through snow and thaw, when Sifers 
 
 come, says he : 
 "No, M lissy; don t poke out your raw and cloven tongue 
 
 at me ! 
 
 "I know, without no symptoms but them injarubbcr-shoes 
 
 You promised me to never putt a fool-foot in ner use 
 
 At purril o your life!" he said. "And I won t save you 
 
 now, 
 Onless here on your dyin bed you consecrate your 
 
 vow !" 
 
 Without a-claimin any creed, Doc s rail religious views 
 Nobody knows ner got no need o knowin whilse he 
 
 choose 
 To be heerd not of man, ner raise no loud, vain-glorious 
 
 prayers 
 In crowded marts, er public ways, er i jucks, anywheres ! 
 
 Less n it is away deep down in his own heart, at night, 
 Facin the storm, when all the town s a-sleepin snug and 
 
 tight 
 Him splashin hence from scenes o pride and sloth and 
 
 gilded show, 
 To some pore sufferer s bedside o anguish, don t you 
 
 know ! 
 
 Er maybe dead o winter makes no odds to Doc, he s got 
 To face the weather ef it takes the hide off ! cause he ll not 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Lie out o goin and p tend he s sick hisse f like some 
 At 1 could name at folks might send fer and they d never 
 come! 
 
 Like pore Phin Hoover when he goes to that last dance o 1 
 
 his 
 That Chris mus when his feet wuz froze and Doc saved 
 
 all they is 
 Left of em " Nough," as Phin say now, "to track me by, 
 
 and be 
 A adverfcment, anyhow, o what Doc s done fer me ! 
 
 "When he come knife-and-saw" Phin say, "I knowed, et 
 I d the spunk, 
 
 At Doc ud fix me up some way, ef nothin but my trunk 
 
 Wuz left, he d fasten casters in and have me, spick-and- 
 span, 
 
 A-skootin round the streets ag in as spry as any man !" 
 
 Doc sees a patient s got to quit he ll ease him down serene 
 As dozin off to sleep, and yit not dope him with mor- 
 
 phccn. 
 He won t tell what jes lows at he has "airnt the right to 
 
 sing 
 O grave, where is thy victery? O death, where is thy 
 
 sting? " 
 
 And, mind ye now ! it s not in scoff and scorn, by long 
 
 degree, 
 
 At Doc gits things like that-un off: it s jes his shority 
 And total faith in Life to Come, w y, "from that Land o 
 
 Bliss," 
 He says, "we ll haf to chuckle some, a-lookin back at this !" 
 
 488 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And, still in p int, 1 mind, one night o nitiation at 
 
 Some secert lodge, at Doc set right down on em, square 
 
 and flat, 
 \Vhen they mixed up some Scriptur and wuz funnin -like. 
 
 w y, he 
 Lit in em with a rep imand at ripped em, A to Z ! 
 
 And onc t when gineral loafin -place wuz old Shoe-Shop 
 
 and all 
 The gang ud git in there and brace their backs ag inst the 
 
 wall 
 
 And settle questions that had went onscttled long enough, 
 Like "wuz no Heav n ner no torment" jes talkin awfhl 
 
 rough! 
 
 There wuz Slokc Haines and old Ike Knight and Coonrod 
 Simmes all three 
 
 Ag inst the Bible and the Light, and scouthY Deity. 
 
 "Science" says Ike, "it muonstrates it takes nobody s 
 word 
 
 Scriptur er not, it vcstigates ef sich things could oc 
 curred !" 
 
 Well, Doc he heerd this, he d drapped in a minute, fer to 
 
 git 
 
 A tore-off heel pegged on ag in, and, as he stood on it 
 And stomped and grinned, he says to Ike, "I s pose now, 
 
 purty soon 
 Some lightin -bug, indignant-like, 11 vestigate the 
 
 moon ! 
 
 489 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "No, Ike," says Doc, "this world hain t saw no brains like 
 
 yourn and mine 
 
 With sense enough to grasp a law at takes a brain divine. 
 I ve bared the thoughts of brains in doubt, and felt their 
 
 finest pulse, 
 And mortal brains jes won t turn out omnipotent results!" 
 
 And Doc he s got respects to spare the rich as well as 
 
 pore 
 Says he, "I d turn no milllonnaire onsheltered from my 
 
 door." 
 Says he, "What s wealth to him in quest o honest friends 
 
 to back 
 And love him fer hisse ff not jes because he s made his 
 
 jack !" 
 
 And childern. Childcrn? Lawzy-day ! Doc worships em ! 
 
 You call 
 Round at his house and ast em ! they re z-swarmin there 
 
 that s all ! 
 They re in his Lib ry in best room in kitchen fur and 
 
 near, 
 In office too, and, I p sume, his operatin -cheer ! 
 
 You know they s men at bees won t sting? They s plaguy 
 
 few, but Doc 
 He s one o them. And same, i jing! with childern ; they 
 
 jes flock 
 
 Round Sifers natchurl!in his lap, and in his pockets, too, 
 And in his old fur mitts and cap, and heart as warm and 
 
 true! 
 
 490 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 It s cur ous, too, cause Doc hain t got no childern of his 
 
 own 
 Ceptin the ones he s tuk and brought up, at s bin left 
 
 alone 
 And orphans when their father died, er mother, and Doc 
 
 he 
 Has he pped their dyin* satisfied. "The child shall live 
 
 with me 
 
 "And Winniferd, my wife," he d say, and stop right there, 
 
 and cle r 
 His th oat, and go on thinkin* way some mother-hearts 
 
 down here 
 Can t never feel their own babe s face a-pressin em, ner 
 
 make 
 Their naked breasts a restin -place fer any baby s sake. 
 
 Doc s Lt b ry as he calls it, well, they s ha f-a-dozen 
 
 she ves 
 Jam-full o books I couldn t tell how many count your- 
 
 se ves ! 
 One whole she fs Works on Medicine I and most the rest s 
 
 about 
 First Settlement, and Indians in here, fore we driv em 
 
 out. 
 
 And Plutarch s Lives and life also o Dan el Boone, and 
 
 this- 
 Here Mungo Park, and Adam Poe jes* all the lives 
 
 they is ! 
 
 And Doc s got all the novels out, by Scott and Dickison 
 And Cooper. And, I make no doubt, he s read em ever* 
 
 one! 
 
 491 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Onc t, in his office, settin there, with crowd o eight er nine 
 Old neighbers with the time to spare, and Doc a-feelin fine, 
 A man rid up from Rollins, jes fcr Doc to write him out 
 Some blame* p scription done, I guess, in minute, nigh 
 about. 
 
 And 7 says, "Doc, you pear so spry, jes write me that 
 
 recei t 
 
 You have fer bein happy by, fer that ud shorely beat 
 Your medicine!" says I. And quick as s cat! Doc turned 
 
 and writ 
 And handed me: "Go he p the sick, and putt your heart 
 
 in it." 
 
 And then, "A-talkin furder bout that line o thought," 
 
 says he, 
 
 "Ef we ll jcs do the work cut out and give to you and me, 
 We ll lack no joy, ner appetite, ner all we d ort to eat, 
 And sleep like childern ever night as puore and ca m and 
 
 sweet." 
 
 ! ?>3v 3? 
 
 Doc has bin cused o offishncss and lack o talkin free 
 And extry friendly; but he says, "I m feard o talk," says 
 
 he,- 
 
 "I ve got," he says, "a natchurl turn fer talkin fit to kill. 
 The best and hardest thing to learn is trick o keepin still." 
 
 Doc kin smoke, and I s pose he might drink licker jes fer 
 
 fun. 
 He says, "You smoke, you drink all right; but 1 don t 
 
 neether one" 
 
 492 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Says. "I like whisky good old rye but like it in its place. 
 Like that-air warter in your eye, er nose there on your 
 face." 
 
 Doc s bound to have his joke! The day he got that off 
 
 on me 
 
 I jes had sold a load o hay at "Scofield s Livery," 
 And tolled Doc in the shed they kep the hears t in, where 
 
 I d hid 
 The stuff at got me "out o step," as Sifers said it did. 
 
 Doc hain t, to say, no "rollin stone" and yit he hain t no 
 
 hand 
 Fer cumulating Home s his own, and scrap o farmin - 
 
 land 
 Enough to keep him out the way when folks is tuk down 
 
 sick 
 The suddentest most any day they want him special 
 
 quick. 
 
 And yit Doc loves his practise; ner don t, wilful, want to 
 
 slight 
 
 No call no matter who how fur away er day er night. 
 He loves his work he loves his friends June, Winter, 
 
 Fall, and Spring: 
 His lovin facts is never ends ; he loves jes ever - 
 
 thing. . . . 
 
 Cept kcepin books. He never sets down no accounts.- 
 
 He hates, 
 The worst of all, collectin debts the worst, the more *><? 
 
 waits. 
 
 493 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 I ve knowed him, when at last he had to dun a man, to end 
 By makin him a loan and mad he hadn t more to lend. 
 
 When Pence s Drug Store ust to be in full blast, they wu? 
 
 some 
 Doc s patients got things frekantly there, charged to him, 
 
 i gum ! 
 Doc run a bill there, don t you know, and allus when he 
 
 squared, 
 He never questioned nothin , so he had his feelin s spared. 
 
 Now sich as that, I hold and claim, hain t scusable it s not 
 Perfessional! It s jes* a shame at Doc hisse f hain t got 
 No better business-sense I That s why lots d respect him 
 
 more, 
 And not give him the clean go-by fer other docters. Shore ! 
 
 This-here Doc Glenn, fer instance; er this little jack-leg 
 Hall; 
 
 They re business folks respects em fer their business 
 more n all 
 
 They ever knowed, or ever will, bout medicine. Yit they 
 
 Collect their money, k-yore er kill. They re business, any 
 way] 
 
 You ast Jake Dunn : he s worked it out in figgers. He 
 
 kin show 
 
 Statistics how Doc s airnt about three fortunes in a row, 
 Ever ten-year hand-runnin straight three of em thirty 
 
 year 
 At Jake kin count and lucidate o Sifers practise here. 
 
 494 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Vit "Praise the Lord," says Doc, "we ve got our little 
 
 home !" says he 
 "(It s railly Winniferd s, but what she owns, she sheers 
 
 with me.) 
 
 We got our little gyarden-spot, and peach and apple trees, 
 And stable, too, and chicken-lot, and eighteen hive o bees." 
 
 You call it anything you please, but it s witchcraft the 
 
 power 
 At Sifers has o handlin bees ! He ll watch em by the 
 
 hour 
 Mix right amongst em, mad and hot and swarmin ! yit 
 
 they won t 
 Sting him, er want to pear to not, at least I know they 
 
 don t. 
 
 With me and bees they s no p tense o sociability 
 
 A dad-burn bee ud climb a fence to git a whack at me! 
 
 I s pose no thing at s got a sting is railly satisfied 
 
 It s sharp enough, ontel, i jing! he s honed it on my hide! 
 
 And Doc he s allus had a knack inventin things. Dee-vised 
 A windlass wound its own se f back as it run down : and 
 
 s prised ;JH 
 
 Their new hired girl with clothes-line, too, and clothes-pins, 
 
 all in one: 
 Purt nigh all left fer her to do wuz git her primpin donel 
 
 And onc t, I mind, in airly Spring, and tappin sugar trees, 
 Doc made a dad-burn little thing to sharpen spiles with 
 these- 
 
 495 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Here wood -spouts at the peth s punched out, and driv in 
 
 where they bore 
 The auger-holes. He sharpened bout a million spiles er 
 
 more ! 
 
 And Doc s the first man ever swung a bucket on a tree 
 Instid o troughs; and first man brung grained sugar so s 
 
 at he 
 Could use it fer his coffee, and fer cookin , don t you 
 
 know. 
 Folks come clean up from Pleasantland fore they d believe 
 
 it, though! 
 
 And all Doc s stable-doors owlocks and locks theirse ves 
 
 and gates 
 The same way; all rigged up like clocks, with pulleys, 
 
 wheels, and weights, 
 So, s Doc says, "Drivin out, er in, they ll open; and they ll 
 
 then, 
 All quiet-like, shet up ag in like little gentlemen !" 
 
 And Doc ud made a mighty good detective. Neighbers all 
 Will testify to that er could, ef they wuz legal call : 
 His theories on any crime is worth your listenin to. 
 And he has hit em, many a time, long fore established true 
 
 At this young druggist Wenfield Pence s trial fer his life, 
 
 On primy faishy evidence o pizonin his wife 
 
 Doc s testimony saved and cle red and quitted him and 
 
 freed 
 Him so s he never even peared cog-m>ant of the deed ! 
 
 496 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The facts wuz Sifers testified, at inquest he had found 
 The stunimick showed the woman died o pizon, but had 
 
 downed 
 The dos t herse f, because amount and cost o drug im- 
 
 ployed 
 No druggist would, on no account, a lavished and dis- 
 
 troyed ! 
 
 : 3iUD li/orlliw Ui>J bus ,om 19 trov ZR TID oJ qc aA. 
 Doc tracked a blame-don burglar down, and nailed the 
 
 scamp, to boot, 
 
 But told him ef he d leave the town he wouldn t prosecute. 
 He traced him by a tied-up thumb-print in fresh putty, 
 
 where 
 Doc glazed it. Jes that s how he come to track him to his 
 
 lair! 
 
 I nv/oJ 3iff ni ncm J=->,l brrc ; ariil-J^jbml-i^Jicv/ nirmoV^LJ 
 Doc s jes a te^te too inclined, some thinks, to overlook 
 The criminal and vicious kind we d ort to bring to book 
 And punish, thout no extry show o sympathizing where 
 They hain t showed none fer us, you know. But he takes 
 
 issue there : 
 
 Doc argies at "The Red-eyed Law," as he says, "ort ta 
 
 learn 
 
 To lay a mighty leenient paw on deeds o sich concern 
 As only the Good Bein knows the wherefore of, and 
 
 spreads 
 His hands above accused and sows His mercies on their 
 
 heads." 
 
 Doc even holds at murder hain t no crime we got a right 
 To hang a man fer claims it s taint o lunacy, er quite. 
 
 497 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "Hold slch a man responsibul fer murder," Doc says, 
 
 "then, 
 When he s hung, where s the rope to pull them sound-mind 
 
 "It s in a nutshell all kin see," says Doc, "it s cle r the 
 
 Law s 
 
 As ap to err as you er me, and kill without a cause : 
 The man most innocent o sin I ve saw, er sped to see, 
 Wuz servin a life-sentence in the penitentchury." 
 
 And Doc s a whole hand at a fire! directin how and 
 
 where 
 To set your ladders, low er higher, and what first duties 
 
 air, 
 
 Like formin warter-bucket-line ; and best man in the town 
 To chop holes in old roofs, and mine defective chimblies 
 
 down : 
 
 Er durin any public crowd, mass-meetin , er big day, 
 Where ladies ortn t be allowed, as I ve heerd Sifers say, 
 When they s a suddent rush somewhere, it s Doc s voice, 
 
 ca m and cle r, 
 Says, "Fall back, men, and give her air ! that s all she s 
 
 faintin fer." 
 
 bfi ,*o STOT-ITMIW 3(fi wouA nbH boor) oifj vjiJi- 
 The sorriest I ever feel fer Doc is when some show 
 Er circus comes to town and he ll not git a chance to go. 
 Cause he jes natchurly flights in circuses clean down 
 From tumblers, in their spangled tights, to trick-mule and 
 
 Old Clown. 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And ever body knows it, too, how Doc is, thataway ! . . . 
 I mind a circus onc t come through wuz there myse f that 
 
 day. 
 Ring-master cracked his whip, you know, to start the ridin 
 
 when 
 
 In runs Old Clown and hollers "Whoa! Ladies and gen 
 tlemen 
 
 - -.Tiion ~tri;g}fn .b ^-tt/jdi f>m 3>lrn II 1 TV* -jfio-Ufi A 
 
 "Of this vast audience, I fain would make inquiry cle r, 
 And learn, find out, and ascertain Is Doctor Sifers here?" 
 And when some fool-voice bellers down : "He is ! He s 
 
 settin in 
 
 Full view o ye !" "Then," says the Clown, "the circus may 
 begin!" 
 
 id GJ Vvi I/aw ? gdi^zbiJd i>;i:t HI; vcniflj !>;? r-^bi ;;;"// 
 Doc s got a temper; but, he says, he s learnt it which is 
 
 boss, 
 Yit has to watch it, more er less. ... I never seen him 
 
 cross 
 But onc t, enough to make him swear ; milch-cow stepped 
 
 on his toe, 
 And Doc ripped out "/ doggies!" There s the only case I 
 
 know. 
 
 Doc says that s what your temper s fer to hold back out 
 
 o view, 
 
 And learn it never to occur on out ahead o you. 
 "You lead the way," says Sifers "git your temper back in 
 
 line 
 And furdest back the best, ef it s as mean a one as mine !" 
 
 He hates contentions can t abide a wrangle er dispute 
 O any kind; and he ull slide out of a crowd and skoot 
 
 499 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Up some back-alley fore he ll stand and listen TO a furse 
 When ary one s got upper-hand and t other one s got worse. 
 
 Doc says : "I spise, when pore and weak and awk ard 
 
 talkers fails, 
 To see it s them with hardest cheek and loudest mouth 
 
 pervails. 
 
 A all-one-sided quarr l 11 make me biassed, mighty near, 
 Cause ginerly the side I take s the one I never hear." 
 "\VV>& vvA i6 "UiVit^l v\ uisntr;;-i; JMt .iij.o.I. i nft ,in/; ; ;f ln\>. 
 
 What peals to Doc the most and best is "seein folks 
 
 agreed, 
 
 And takin ekal interest and universal heed 
 O ever body else s words and idies same as we 
 Wuz glad and chirpy as the birds jes as we d art to be!" 
 
 And pater otic! Like to git Doc started, full and fair, 
 About the war, and why t uz fit, and what wuz complished 
 
 there ; 
 "And who wuz wrong" says Doc, "er right, t uz waste o 
 
 blood and tears, 
 All prophesied in Black and White fer years and years and 
 
 And then he ll likely kind o tetch on old John Brown, and 
 
 dwell 
 On what his warnin s wuz ; and ketch his breath and cough, 
 
 and tell 
 On down to Lincoln s death. And then well, he jes 
 
 chokes and quits 
 With "I must go now, gentlemen !" and grabs his hat, and 
 
 gits! 
 
 500 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Doc s own war-rickord wuzn t won so much in line o fight 
 As line o work and nussin done the wownded, day and 
 
 night. 
 His wuz the hand, through dark and dawn, at bound their 
 
 wownds, and laid 
 As soft as their own mother s on their forreds when they 
 
 prayed. . . . 
 
 His wuz the face they saw the first all dim, but smilin 
 bright, 
 
 As they come to and knowed the worst, yit saw the old 
 Red-White- 
 
 And-Blue where Doc had fixed it where they d see it 
 wavin still, 
 
 Out through the open tent-flap there, er crost the winder- 
 sill. 
 
 And some s a-limpin round here yit a-waitin Last Re 
 view, 
 
 Ud give the pensions at they git, and pawn their crutches, 
 too, 
 
 To he p Doc out, ef he wuz pressed financial same as he 
 
 Has allus he pped them when distressed ner never tuk a 
 fee. 
 
 Doc never wuz much hand to pay attention to p tcnsc 
 And fuss-and-f eathers and display in men o prominence : 
 "A railly great man," Sifers lows, "is not the out ard 
 
 dressed 
 All uniform, salutes and bows, and swellin out his chest. 
 
 501 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "I met a great man onc t," Doc says, "and shuk his hand," 
 
 says he, 
 
 "And he come bout in one, I guess, o disapp intin* me 
 He talked so common-like, and brought his mind so cle r 
 
 in view 
 And simple-like, I purt nigh .thought, I m best man o the 
 
 two ! " 
 
 Yes-JtV/ Doc s got convictions and old-fashioned kind o 
 
 ways 
 And idies bout this glorious Land o Freedom ; and he ll 
 
 raise 
 
 His hat clean off, no matter where, jes ever time he sees 
 The Stars and Stripes a-floatin there and flappin in the 
 
 breeze. 
 
 And tunes like old "Red-White-and-Blue" 11 fairly drive 
 
 him wild, 
 Played on the brass band, marchin through the streets ! 
 
 Jes like a child 
 I ve saw that man, his smile jes set, all kind o pale and 
 
 white, 
 Bareheaded, and his eyes all wet, yit dancin with delight ! 
 
 And yit, that very man we see all trimbly, pale and wann, 
 Give him a case o surgery, we ll see another man ! 
 We ll do the trimblin then, and we ll git white around the 
 
 gills 
 He ll show us nerve o nerves, and he ull show us skill o 
 
 skills ! 
 
 502 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Then you could toot your horns and beat your drums and 
 
 bang your guns, 
 And wave your flags and march the street, and charge, all 
 
 Freedom s sons ! 
 
 And Sifers then, 1 bet my hat, ud never flinch a hair, 
 But, stiddy-handed, tend to that pore patient layin 1 there. 
 
 And Sifers eye s as stiddy as that hand o his ! He ll shoot 
 A old-style rifle, like he has, and smallest bore, to boot, 
 With any fancy rifles made to-day, er expert shot 
 At works at shootin like a trade and all some of em 1 ? 
 got! 
 
 .H[-/Krrr" -T ".ib/iM 1 * 10 ",>Ltoi" botafi jTd-sMrfob ^iJ }I;QT^ A 
 Let em go right out in the woods with Doc, and leave theii 
 
 "traps" 
 And blame glass-balls and queensware-goods, and see how 
 
 Sifers draps 
 
 A squirrel out the tallest tree. And fore he fires he ll say 
 Jes where he ll hit him yes, sir-ee! And he s hit that- 
 
 away! 
 
 ilj,,-, 
 
 Let em go out with him, i jucks! with fishin -pole and 
 
 gun, 
 
 And ekal chances, fish and ducks, and take the rain, er sun, 
 Jes as it pours, er as it blinds the eyesight ; then I guess 
 At they d acknowledge, in their minds, their disadvantages. 
 
 And yit he d be the last man out to flap his wings and crow 
 Tnsultin -like, and strut about above his fallen foe ! 
 No-jiV/ the hand at tuk the wind out o their sails ud be 
 The very first they grabbed, and grinned to feel sich sym 
 pathy. 
 
 503 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Doc gits off now and then and takes a huntin -trip some 
 where 
 
 Bont Kankakee, up mongst the lakes sometimes ll drift 
 round there 
 
 In his canoe a week er two ; then paddle clean on back 
 
 By way o old Wabash and Blue, with fish all he kin 
 pack, 
 
 jn.-..ri? [I .sH -! ?.irl o Im^ii .tr.fb S.R vbbiie ,-f, ?/ >//> ^T^tiri b rt/x 
 
 And wild ducks some with feathers on em yit, and stuffed 
 
 with grass. 
 And neighbers all knows he s bin gone comes round and 
 
 gits a bass 
 A great big double-breasted "rock," er "black," er maybe 
 
 pair 
 Half fills a ordinary crock. . . . Doc s fish ll give out 
 
 there 
 
 Long fore his ducks! But folks ll smile and blandish him, 
 
 and make 
 Him tell and tell things! all the while enjoy em jes fer 
 
 sake 
 O pleasin him; and then turn in and la nch him from the 
 
 start 
 A-tellin all the things ag in they railly know by heart. 
 
 He s jes a child, s what Sifers is! And-sir, I d ruther see 
 That happy, childish face o his, and puore simplicity, 
 Than any shape er style er plan o mortals otherwise 
 With perfect faith in God and man a-shinin in his eyes. 
 
 TAMAM 
 
 504 
 
A CHILD-WORLD 
 
 251 The Child-World 
 
 A CHILD-WORLD, yet a wondrous world no less, 
 To those who knew its boundless happiness. 
 A simple old frame house eight rooms in all 
 Set just one side the center of a small 
 But very hopeful Indiana town, 
 The upper story looking squarely down 
 Upon the main street, and the main highway 
 From East to West, historic in its day, 
 Known as The National Road old-timers, all 
 Who linger yet, will happily recall 
 It as the scheme and handiwork, as well 
 As property, of "Uncle Sam," and tell 
 Of its importance, "long and long afore 
 Railroads wuz ever drcamp of !" Furthermore 
 The reminiscent first inhabitants 
 Will make that old road blossom with romance 
 Of snowy caravans, in long parade 
 Of covered vehicles, of every grade 
 From ox-cart of most primitive design, 
 To Conestoga wagons, with their fine 
 Deep-chested six-horse teams, in heavy gear, 
 High hames and chiming bells to childish ear 
 And eye entrancing as the glittering train 
 Of some sun-smitten pageant of old Spain. 
 505 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And, in like spirit, haply they will tell 
 
 You of the roadside forests, and the yell 
 
 Of "wolfs" and "painters," in the long night-ride, 
 
 And "screechin catamounts" on every side. 
 
 Of stage-coach days, highwaymen, and strange crimes, 
 
 And yet unriddled mysteries of the times 
 
 Called "Good Old." "And why Good Old ?" once a 
 
 rare 
 
 Old chronicler was asked, who brushed the hair 
 Out of his twinkling eyes and said, "Well, John, 
 They re good old times because they re dead and 
 
 The old home site was portioned into three 
 
 Distinctive lots. The front one natively 
 
 Facing to southward, broad and gaudy-fine 
 
 With lilac, dahlia, rose, and flowering vine 
 
 The dwelling stood in ; and behind that, and 
 
 Upon the alley north and south, left hand, 
 
 The old wood-house, half, trimly stacked with wood, 
 
 And half, a workshop, where a work-bench stood 
 
 Steadfastly through all seasons. Over it, 
 
 Along the wall, hung compass, brace-and-bit, 
 
 And square, and drawing-knife, and smooth ing-plane 
 
 And little jack-plane, too the children s vain 
 
 Possession by pretense in fancy they 
 
 Manipulating it in endless play, 
 
 Turning out countless curls and loops of bright, 
 
 Fine satin shavings Rapture infinite! 
 
 Shelved quilting-frames ; the tool-chest ; the old box 
 
 Of refuse nails and screws; a rough gun-stock s 
 
 506 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Outline in "curly maple"; and a pair 
 
 Of clamps and old kraut-cutter hanging there. 
 
 Some "patterns," in thin wood, of shield and scroll, 
 
 Hung higher, with a neat "cane-fishing pole" 
 
 And careful tackle all securely out 
 
 Of reach of children, rumaging about. 
 
 Beside the wood-house, with broad branches free 
 
 Yet close above the roof, an apple-tree 
 
 Known as "The Prince s Harvest" Magic phrase! 
 
 That was a boy s own tree, in many ways ! 
 
 Its girth and height meet both for the caress 
 
 Of his bare legs and his ambitiousness : 
 
 And then its apples, humoring his whim, 
 
 Seemed just to fairly hurry ripe for him 
 
 Even in June, impetuous as he, 
 
 They dropped to meet him, half-way up the tree. 
 
 And O their bruised sweet faces where they fell ! 
 
 And ho ! the lips that feigned to "kiss them well"! 
 
 "The Old Sweet-Apple Tree," a stalwart, stood 
 
 In fairly sympathetic neighborhood 
 
 Of this wild princeling with his early gold 
 
 To toss about so lavishly nor hold 
 
 In bounteous hoard to overbrim at once 
 
 All Nature s lap when came the Autumn months. 
 
 Under the spacious shade of this the eyes 
 
 Of swinging children saw swift-changing skies 
 
 Of blue and green, with sunshine shot between, 
 
 And "when the old cat died" they saw but green. 
 
 And, then, there was a cherry tree. We all 
 
 And severally will yet recall 
 
 SO? 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 From our lost youth, in gentlest memory, 
 The hlessed fact There was a cherry tree. 
 
 There was a cherry tree. Its bloomy snows 
 Cool even now the fevered sight that knows 
 No more its airy visions of pure joy 
 As when you were a boy. 
 
 There was a cherry tree. The Bluejay set 
 His blue against its white O blue as jet 
 He seemed there then! But now Whoever knew 
 He was so pale a blue! 
 
 There was a cherry tree Our child-eyes saw 
 The miracle: Its pure white snows did thaw 
 Into a crimson fruitage, far too sweet 
 But for a boy to eat. 
 
 There was a cherry tree, give thanks and joy! 
 There was a bloom of snow There was a boy 
 There was a Bluejay of the realest blue 
 And fruit for both of you. 
 
 Then the old garden, with the apple trees 
 
 Grouped round the margin, and "a stand of bees" 
 
 By the "white-winter-pearmain" ; and a row 
 
 Of currant-bushes; and a quince or so. 
 
 The old grape-arbor in the center, by 
 
 The pathway to the stable, with the sty 
 
 Behind it, and upon it, cootering flocks 
 
 Of pigeons, and the cutest "martin-box" ! 
 
 Made like a sure-enough house with roof, and doors 
 
 And windows in it, and veranda-floors 
 
 And balusters all round it yes, and at 
 
 Each end a chimney -"painted red at that 
 
 And penciled white, to look like little bricks; 
 
 And, to cap all the builder s cunning tricks, 
 
 508 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 
 Two tiny little lightning-rods were run 
 
 Straight up their sides, and twinkled in the sun. 
 
 Who built ic? Nay, no answer but a smile. 
 
 It may be you can guess who, afterwhile. 
 
 Home in his stall, "Old Sorrel" munched his hay 
 
 And oats and corn, and switched the flies away, 
 
 In a repose of patience good to see, 
 
 And. earnest of the gentlest pedigree. 
 
 With half pathetic eye sometimes he gazed 
 
 Upon the gambols of a colt that grazed 
 
 Around the edges of the lot outside, 
 
 And kicked at nothing suddenly, and tried 
 
 To act grown-up and graceful and high-bred, 
 
 But dropped, k whop I and scraped the buggy-shed, 
 
 Leaving a tuft of woolly, foxy hair 
 
 Under the sharp-end of a gate-hinge there. 
 
 Then, all ignobly scrambling to his feet 
 
 And whinnying a whinny like a bleat, 
 
 He would pursue himself around the lot 
 
 And do the whole thing over, like as not! . ; ; 
 
 Ah! what a life of constant fear and dread 
 
 And flop and squawk and flight the chickens led ! 
 
 Above the fences, either side, were seen 
 
 The neighbor-houses, set in plots of green 
 
 Dooryards and greener gardens, tree and wall 
 
 Alike whitewashed, and order in it all : 
 
 The scythe hooked in the tree-fork; and the spade 
 
 And hoe and rake and shovel all, when laid 
 
 Aside, were in their places, ready for 
 
 The hand of either the possessor or 
 
 Of any neighbor, welcome to the loan 
 
 Of any tool he might not chance to own. 
 
 509 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 252 The Old Home-Folks 
 
 SUCH was the Child-World of the long-ago 
 The little world these children used to know : 
 Johnty, the oldest, and the best, perhaps, 
 Of the five happy little Hoosier chaps 
 Inhabiting this wee world all their own. 
 Johnt} , the leader, with his native tone 
 Of grave command a general on parade 
 Whose punctilious order was obeyed 
 By his proud followers. 
 
 But Johnty yet 
 
 After all serious duties could forget 
 
 
 The gravity of life to the extent, 
 
 At times, of kindling much astonishment 
 
 About him : With a quick, observant eye, 
 
 And mind and memory, he could supply 
 
 The tamest incident with liveliest mirth ; 
 
 And at the most unlooked-for times on earth 
 
 Was wont to break into some travesty 
 
 On those around him feats of mimicry 
 
 Of this one s trick of gesture that one s walk 
 
 Or this one s laugh or that one s funny talk, 
 
 The way "the watermelon-man" would try 
 
 His humor on town-folks that wouldn t buy ; 
 
 How he drove into town at morning then 
 
 At dusk (alas!) how he drove out again. 
 
 Though these divertisements of Johnty s were 
 Hailed with a hearty glee and relish, there 
 Appeared a sense, on his part, of regret 
 A spirit of remorse that would not let 
 5*0 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Him rest for days thereafter. Such times he, 
 
 As some boy said, "jist got too overly 
 
 Blame good fer common boys like us, you know, 
 
 To .yociate with less n we ud go 
 
 And jine his church !" 
 
 Next after Johnty came 
 His little towhead brother, Bud by name. 
 And O how white his hair was and how thick 
 His face with freckles, and his ears, how quick 
 And curious and intrusive ! And how pale 
 The blue of his big eyes ; and how a tale 
 Of Giants, Trolls or Fairies, bulged them still 
 Bigger and bigger ! and when "Jack" would kill 
 The old "Four-headed Giant," Bud s big eyes 
 Were swollen truly into giant-size. 
 And Bud was apt in make-believes would hear 
 His Grandma talk or read, with such an ear 
 And memory of both subject and big words, 
 That he would take the book up afterwards 
 And feign to "read aloud," with such success 
 As caused his truthful elders real distress. 
 But he must have big words they seemed to give, 
 Extremer range to the superlative 
 That was his passion. "My Gran ma," he said, 
 One evening, after listening as she read 
 Some heavy old historical review 
 With copious explanations thereunto 
 Drawn out by his inquiring turn of mind, 
 "My Gran ma she s read all books ever kind 
 They is, at tells all bout the land an sea 
 An Nations of the Earth ! An she is the 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Historicul-est woman ever wuz !" 
 
 (Forgive the verse s chuckling as it does 
 
 In its erratic current. Oftentimes 
 
 The little willowy water-brook of rhymes 
 
 Must falter in its music, listening to 
 
 The children laughing as they used to do.) 
 
 Who shall sing a simple ditty all about the Willow 
 Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray 
 
 That dandles high the happy bird that flutters there to trill a 
 Tremulously tender song of greeting to the May. 
 
 Bravest, too, of all the trees! none to match your daring, 
 First of greens to greet the Spring and lead in leafy sheen 
 
 Ay, and you re the last almost into winter wearing 
 Still the leaf of loyalty still the badge of green. 
 
 Ah, my lovely Willow! Let the Waters lilt your graces, 
 They alone with limpid kisses lave your leaves above, 
 
 Flashing back your sylvan beauty, and in shady places 
 Peering up with glimmering pebbles, like the eyes of love. 
 
 Next, Maymie, with her hazy cloud of hair, 
 And the blue skies of eyes beneath it there. 
 Her dignified and "little lady" airs 
 Of never either romping up the stairs 
 Or falling down them ; thoughtful every way 
 Of others first The kind of child at play 
 That "gave up," for the rest, the ripest pear 
 Or peach or apple in the garden there 
 Beneath the trees where swooped the airy swing- 
 She pushing it, too glad for anything ! 
 Or, in the character of hostess, she 
 Would entertain her friends delightfully 
 
 512 
 
THE HOOS1ER BOOK 
 
 In her playhouse, with strips of carpet laid 
 
 Along the garden-fence within the shade 
 
 Of the old apple trees where from next yard 
 
 Came the two dearest friends in her regard, 
 
 The little Crawford girls, Ella and Lu 
 
 As shy and lovely as the lilies grew 
 
 In their idyllic home, yet sometimes they 
 
 Admitted Bud and Alex to their play, 
 
 Who did their heavier work and helped them fix 
 
 To have a "Festibul" and brought the bricks 
 
 And built the "stove," with a real fire and all, 
 
 And stove-pipe joint for chimney, looming tall 
 
 And wonderfully smoky even to 
 
 Their childish aspirations, as it blew 
 
 And swooped and swirled about them till their sight 
 
 Was feverish even as their high delight. 
 
 Then Alex, with his freckles, and his freaks 
 
 Of temper, and the peach-bloom of his cheeks, 
 
 And "amber-colored hair" his mother said 
 
 Twas that, when others laughed and called it "red" 
 
 And Alex threw things at them till they d call 
 
 A truce, agreeing " t uz n t red ut-tall!" 
 
 But Alex was affectionate beyond 
 
 The average child, and was extremely fond 
 
 Of the paternal relatives of his 
 
 Or whom he once made estimate like this : 
 
 "I m only got two brothers, but my Pa 
 
 He s got most brothers n you ever saw! 
 
 He s goth seben brothers .Yes, an they re all my 
 
 Seben Uncles! Uncle John, an Jim, an I 
 
 Got Uncle George, an Uncle Andy, too, 
 
 An Uncle Frank, an Uncle Joe. An you 
 
 513 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Knoiv Uncle Mart. An , all but him, they re great 
 Big mens! An nen s Aunt Sarah She makes eight! 
 I m got eight uncles ! cept Aunt Sarah can t 
 Be ist my uncle cause she s ist my aunt!" 
 
 n ! kilt; r-: ii -i , f !.: ;, isfwin".; .I; 1 :. .. 
 Then, next to Alex and the last indeed 
 Of these five little ones of whom you read 
 Was baby Lizzie, with her velvet lisp, 
 As though her elfin lips had caught some wisp 
 Of floss between them as they strove with speech, 
 Which ever seemed just in, yet out of, reach 
 Though what her lips missed, her dark eyes could say 
 With looks that made her meaning clear as day. 
 
 And, knowing now the children, you must know 
 
 The father and the mother they loved so: 
 
 The father was a swarthy man, black-eyed, 
 
 Black-haired, and high of forehead; and, beside 
 
 The slender little mother, seemed in truth 
 
 A very king of men since, from his youth, 
 
 To his hale manhood now (worthy as then, 
 
 A lawyer and a leading citizen 
 
 Of the proud little town and county-seat 
 
 His hopes his neighbors , and their fealty sweet) 
 
 He had known outdoor labor rain and shine 
 
 Bleak Winter, and bland Summer foul and fine. 
 
 So Nature had ennobled him and set 
 
 Her symbol on him like a coronet: 
 
 His lifted brow, and frank, reliant face. 
 
 Superior of stature as of grace, 
 
 Even the children by the spell were wrought 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Up to heroics of their simple thought, 
 
 And saw him, trim of build, and lithe and straight 
 
 And tall, almost, as at the pasture-gate 
 
 The towering ironweed the scythe had spared 
 
 For their sakes, when The Hired Man declared 
 
 It would grow on till it became a tree, 
 
 With cocoanuts and monkeys in maybe! 
 
 Yet, though the children, in their pride and awe 
 
 And admiration of the father, saw 
 
 A being so exalted even more 
 
 Like adoration was the love they bore 
 
 The gentle mother. Her mild, plaintive face 
 
 Was purely fair, and haloed with a grace 
 
 And sweetness luminous when joy made glad 
 
 Her features with a smile; or saintly sad 
 
 As twilight, fell the sympathetic gloom 
 
 Of any childish grief, or as a room 
 
 Were darkened suddenly, the curtain drawn 
 
 Across the window and the sunshine gone. 
 
 Her brow, below her fair hair s glimmering strands, 
 
 Seemed meetest resting-place for blessing hands 
 
 Or holiest touches of soft finger-tips 
 
 A .id little rose-leaf cheeks and dewy lips. 
 
 Though heavy household tasks were pitiless, 
 No little waist or coat or checkered dress 
 But knew her needle s deftness ; and no skill 
 Matched hers in shaping plait or flounce or frill ; 
 Or fashioning, in complicate design, 
 All rich embroideries of leaf and vine, 
 
 515 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 With tiniest twining tendril, bud and bloom 
 And fruit, so like, one s fancy caught perfume 
 And dainty touch and taste of them, to see 
 Their semblance wrought in such rare verity. 
 
 Shrined in her sanctity of home and love, 
 
 And love s fond service and reward thereof, 
 
 Restore her thus, O blessed Memory! 
 
 Throned in her rocking-chair, and on her knee 
 
 Her sewing her work-basket on the floor 
 
 Beside her, Spring-time through the open door 
 
 Balmily stealing in and all about 
 
 The room; the bees dim hum, and the far shout 
 
 And laughter of the children at their play, 
 
 And neighbor children from across the way 
 
 Calling in gleeful challenge save alone 
 
 One boy whose voice sends back no answering tone 
 
 The boy, prone on the floor, above a book 
 
 Of pictures, with a rapt, ecstatic look 
 
 Even as the mother s, by the selfsame spell, 
 
 Is lifted, with a light ineffable- 
 
 As though her senses caught no mortal cry. 
 
 But heard, instead, some poem going by. 
 
 The Child-heart is so strange a little thing 
 
 So mild so timorously shy and small, - 
 When grown-up hearts throb, it goes scampering 
 Behind the wall, nor dares peer out at all! 
 It is the veriest mouse 
 That hides in any house 
 So wild a little thing is any Child-heart. 
 
 Child-heart ! mild h eart ! 
 Ho, my little wild heart! 
 Come up here to me out o the dark, 
 Or let me come to you! 
 
 516 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 So lorn at times the Child-heart needs must be, 
 
 With never one maturer heart for friend 
 And comrade, whose tear-ripened sympathy 
 And love might lend it comfort to the end, 
 Whose yearnings, aches and stings, 
 Over poor little things 
 Were pitiful as ever any Child-heart. 
 
 Child-heart ! -mild heart! 
 
 Ho, my little wild heart t 
 
 Come up here to me out o the dark, 
 
 Or let me come to you I 
 
 Times, too, the little Child-heart must be glad 
 
 Being so young, nor knowing, as we know, 
 The fact from fantasy, the good from bad, 
 The joy from woe, the all that hurts us so! 
 What wonder then that thus 
 It hides away from us? 
 So weak a little thing is any Child-heart! 
 
 Child-heart! mild heart! 
 
 Ho, my little wild heart! 
 
 Come up here to me out o the dark, 
 
 Or let me come to you! 
 
 Nay, little Child-heart, you have never need 
 
 To fear us; we are weaker far than you 
 Tis we who should be fearful we indeed 
 Should hide us, too, as darkly as you do, 
 Safe, as yourself, withdrawn, 
 Hearing the World roar on 
 Too wilful, woeful, awful for the Child-heart! 
 
 Child-heart! mild heart! 
 Ho, my little wild heart! 
 Come up here to me out o the dark, 
 Or let me come to you! 
 
 The clock chats on confidingly ; a rose 
 Taps at the window, as the sunlight throws 
 A brilliant, jostling checkerwork of shine 
 And shadow, like a Persian-loom design, 
 
 517 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Across the home-made carpet fades, and then 
 
 The dear old colors are themselves again. 
 
 Sounds drop in visiting from everywhere 
 
 The bluebird s and the robin s trill are there, 
 
 Their sweet liquidity diluted some 
 
 By dewy orchard-spaces they have come : 
 
 Sounds of the town, too, and the great highway 
 
 The Mover-wagons rumble, and the neigh 
 
 Of over-traveled horses, and the bleat 
 
 Of sheep and low of cattle through the street 
 
 A Nation s thoroughfare of hopes and fears, 
 
 First blazed by the heroic pioneers 
 
 Who gave up old-home idols and set face 
 
 Toward the unbroken West, to found a race 
 
 And tame a wilderness now mightier than 
 
 All peoples and all tracts American. 
 
 Blent with all outer sounds, the sounds within : 
 
 In mild remoteness falls the household din 
 
 Of porch and kitchen: the dull jar and thump 
 
 Of churning; and the "glung-glung" of the pump, 
 
 With sudden pad and scurry of bare feet 
 
 Of little outlaws, in from field or street: 
 
 The clang of kettle, rasp of damper-ring 
 
 And bang of cook-stove door and everything 
 
 That jingles in a busy kitchen lifts 
 
 Its individual wrangling voice and drifts 
 
 In sweetest tinny, coppery, pewtery tone 
 
 Of music hungry ear has ever known 
 
 In wildest famished yearning and conceit 
 
 Of youth, to just cut loose and eat and eat! 
 
 The zest of hunger still incited on 
 
 To childish desperation by long-drawn 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Breaths of hot, steaming, wholesome things that stew 
 
 And blubber, and up-tilt the pot-lids, too. 
 
 Filling the sense with zestful rumors of 
 
 The dear old-fashioned dinners children love : 
 
 Redolent savorings of home-cured meats, 
 
 Potatoes, beans and cabbage ; turnips, beets 
 
 And parsnips rarest composite entire 
 
 That ever pushed a mortal child s desire 
 
 To madness by new-grated fresh, keen, sharp 
 
 Horseradish tang that sets the lips awarp 
 
 And watery, anticipating all 
 
 The cloyed sweets of the glorious festival. 
 
 Still add the cinnamony, spicy scents 
 
 Of clove, nutmeg, and myriad condiments 
 
 In like-alluring whiffs that prophesy 
 
 Of sweltering pudding, cake and custard-pie 
 
 The swooning-sweet aroma haunting all 
 
 The house up-stairs and down porch, parlor, hall 
 
 And sitting-room invading even where 
 
 The Hired Man sniffs it in the orchard-air, 
 
 And pauses in his pruning of the trees 
 
 To note the sun minutely and to sneeze. 
 
 Then Cousin Rufus comes the children hear 
 His hale voice in the old hall, ringing clear 
 As any bell. Always he came with song 
 Upon his lips and all the happy throng 
 Of echoes following him, even as the crowd 
 Of his admiring little kinsmen proud 
 To have a cousin grown and yet as young 
 Of soul and cheery as the songs he sung. 
 
 519 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 He was a student of the law intent 
 
 Soundly to win success, with all it meant; 
 
 And so he studied even as he played, 
 
 With all his heart : And so it was he made 
 
 His gallant fight for fortune through all stress 
 
 Of battle bearing him with cheeriness 
 
 And wholesome valor. 
 
 And the children had 
 Another relative who kept them glad 
 And joyous by his very merry ways 
 As blithe and sunny as the summer days, 
 Their father s youngest brother Uncle Mart. 
 The old "Arabian Nights" he knew by heart 
 "Baron Munchausen," too ; and likewise "The 
 Swiss Family Robinson." And when these three 
 Gave out, as he rehearsed them, he could go 
 Straight on in the same line a steady flow 
 Of arabesque invention that his good 
 Old mother never clearly understood. 
 He was to be a printer wanted, though, 
 To be an actor. But the world was "show" 
 Enough for him, theatric, airy, gay, 
 Each day to him was jolly as a play. 
 And some poetic symptoms, too, in sooth, 
 Were certain. And, from his apprentice youth, 
 He joyed in verse-quotations which he took 
 Out of the old "Type Foundry Specimen Book." 
 He craved and courted most the favor of 
 The children. They were foremost in his love ; 
 And pleasing them, he pleased his own boy-heart 
 A.nd kept it young and fresh in every part. 
 
 520 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 So was it he devised for them and wrought 
 To life his quaintest, most romantic thought: 
 Like some lone castaway in alien seas, 
 He built a house up in the apple trees, 
 Out in the corner of the garden, where 
 No man-devouring native, prowling there, 
 Might pounce upon them in the dead o night 
 For lo, their little ladder, slim and light, 
 They drew up after them. And it was known 
 That Uncle Mart slipped up sometimes alone 
 And drew the ladder in, to lie and moon 
 Over some novel all the afternoon. 
 And one time Johnty, from the crowd below, 
 Outraged to find themselves deserted so 
 Threw bodily their old black cat up in 
 The airy fastness, with much yowl and din 
 Resulting, while a wild periphery 
 Of cat went circling to another tree, 
 And, in impassioned outburst, Uncle Mart 
 Loomed up, and thus relieved his tragic heart: 
 
 ;<] -h ?.& ,?83leod biLG sHv/ ,ho8. dlq arh oT 
 " Hence, long-tailed, ebon-eyed, nocturnal ranger! 
 
 What led thee hither mongst the types and cases? 
 
 Didst thou not know that running midnight races 
 O er standing types was fraught with imminent danger? 
 Did hunger lead thce didst thou think to find 
 
 Some rich old cheese to fill thy hungry maw? 
 
 Vain hope! for none but literary jaw 
 Can masticate our cookery for the mind! " 
 
 ,. >ff pt.U^uo^.o >J>aLri% 9.lp>rit si J^f JA 
 So likewise when, with lordly air and grace, 
 He strode to dinner, with a tragic face 
 
 521 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 With ink-spots on it from the office, he 
 Would aptly quote more "Specimen-poetry " 
 Perchance like "Labor s bread is sweet to eat, 
 (Ahem!) And toothsome is the toiler s meat. " 
 
 Ah, could you see them all, at lull of noon ! 
 A sort of boisterous lull, with clink of spoon 
 And clatter of deflecting knife, and plate 
 Dropped saggingly, with its all-bounteous weight, 
 And dragged in place voraciously; and then 
 Pent exclamations, and the lull again. 
 The garland of glad faces round the board- 
 Each member of the family restored 
 To his or her place, with an extra chair 
 Or two for the chance guests so often there. 
 
 The father s farmer-client brought home from 
 
 The court room, though he "didn t want to come 
 
 Tel he jist saw he hat to!" he d explain, 
 
 Invariably, time and time again, 
 
 To the pleased wife and hostess, as she pressed 
 
 Another cup of coffee on the guest. 
 
 Or there was Johnty s special chum, perchance, 
 
 Or Bud s, or both each childish countenance 
 
 Lit with a higher glow of youthful glee, 
 
 To be together thus unbrokenly, 
 
 Jim Offut, or Eck Skinner, or George Carr 
 
 The very nearest chums of Bud s these are, 
 
 So, very probably, one of the three, 
 
 At least, is there with Bud, or ought to be. 
 
 Like interchange the town-boys each had known 
 
 His playmate s dinner better than his own 
 
 522 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Yet blest that he was ever made to stay 
 
 At Almon Keefer s, any blessed day. 
 
 For any meal ! . . . Visions of biscuits, hot 
 
 And flaky-perfect, with the golden blot 
 
 Of molten butter for the center, clear, 
 
 Through pools of clover-honey dear-o-dear! 
 
 With creamy milk for its divine "farewell" : 
 
 And then, if any one delectable 
 
 Might yet exceed in sweetness, O restore 
 
 The cherry-cobbler of the days of yore 
 
 Made only by Al Reefer s mother ! Why, 
 
 The very thought of it ignites the eye 
 
 Of memory with rapture cloys the lip 
 
 Of longing, till it seems to ooze and drip 
 
 With veriest juice and stain and over waste 
 
 Of that most sweet delirium of taste 
 
 That ever visited the childish tongue, 
 
 Or proved, as now, the sweetest thing unsung. 
 
 Ah, Almon Keef er ! what a boy you were, 
 
 With your back-tilted hat and careless hair, 
 
 And open, honest, fresh, fair face and eyes 
 
 With their all-varying looks of pleased surprise 
 
 And joyous interest in flower and tree, 
 
 And poising humming-bird, and maundering bee. 
 
 The fields and woods he knew; the tireless tramp 
 With gun and dog ; and the night-fisher s camp 
 No other boy, save Bee Lineback, had won 
 Such brilliant mastery of rod and gun. 
 Even in his earliest childhood had he shown 
 These traits that marked him as his father s own. 
 
 523 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Dogs all paid Almon honor and bow-wowed 
 Allegiance, let him come in any crowd 
 Of rabbit-hunting town-boys, even though 
 His own clog "Sleuth" rebuked their acting so 
 With jealous snarls and growlings. 
 
 But the best 
 
 Of Almon s virtues leading all the rest 
 Was his great love of books, and skill as well 
 In reading them aloud, and by the spell 
 Thereof enthralling his mute listeners, as 
 They grouped about him in the orchard-grass, 
 Hinging their bare shins in the mottled shine 
 And shade, as they lay prone, or stretched supine 
 Beneath their favorite tree, with dreamy eyes 
 And Argo-fancies voyaging the skies. 
 "Tales of the Ocean" was the name of one 
 Old dog s-eared book that was surpassed by none 
 Of all the glorious list. Its back was gone, 
 But its vitality went bravely on 
 In such delicious tales of land and sea 
 As may not ever perish utterly. 
 Of still more dubious caste, "Jack Sheppard" drew 
 Full admiration; and "Dick Turpin," too. 
 And, painful as the fact is to convey, 
 In certain lurid tales of their own day, 
 These boys found thieving heroes and outlaws 
 They hailed v/ith equal fervor of applause ; 
 "The League of the Miami" why, the name 
 Alone was fascinating is the same, 
 In memory, this venerable hour 
 Of moral wisdom shorn of all its power, 
 
 524 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 As it tmblushingly reverts to when 
 
 The old barn was "the Cave," and hears again 
 
 The signal blown, outside the buggy-shed 
 
 The drowsy guard within uplifts his head, 
 
 And " Who goes there? 3 is called, in bated breath 
 
 The challenge answered in a hush of death, 
 
 "Sh! Barney Gray! " And then " What do you seek? " 
 
 " Stables of the League! " the voice comes spent and weak. 
 
 For, ha! the Law is on the "Chieftain s" trail 
 
 Tracked to his very lair! Well, what avail? 
 
 The "secret entrance" opens closes. So 
 
 The "Robber-Captain" thus outwits his foe; 
 
 And, safe once more within his "cavern-halls," 
 
 He shakes his clenched fist at the warped plank-walls 
 
 And mutters his defiance through the cracks 
 
 At the balked Enemy s retreating backs 
 
 As the loud horde flees pell-mell do\vn the lane, 
 
 And Almon Kecfer is himself again! 
 
 Excepting few, they were not books indeed 
 Of deep import that Almon chose to read; 
 Less fact than fiction. Much he favored those 
 If not in poetry, in hectic prose 
 That made our native Indian a wild, 
 Feathered and fine-preened hero that a child 
 Could recommend as just about the thing 
 To make a god of, or at least a king. 
 Aside from Almon s own books two or three 
 His store of lore The Township Library 
 Supplied him weekly: All the books with "or"s 
 Sub-titled lured him after "Indian Wars," 
 And "Life of Daniel Boone," not to include 
 Some few books spiced with humor, "Robin Hood" 
 525 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And rare "Don Quixote." And one time he took 
 "Dadd s Cattle Doctor." . . . How he hugged the book 
 And hurried homeward, with internal glee 
 And humorous spasms of expectancy! 
 All this confession as he promptly made 
 It, the day later, writhing in the shade 
 Of the old apple tree with Johnty and 
 Bud, Noey Bixler, and The Hired Hand- 
 Was quite as funny as the book was not. . . . 
 O Wonderland of wayward Childhood! what 
 An easy, breezy realm of summer calm 
 And dreamy gleam and gloom and bloom and balm 
 Thou art! The Lotus-Land the poet sung, 
 It is the Child-World while the heart beats young. . . . 
 
 While the heart beats young! O the splendor of the Spring, 
 
 With all her dewy jewels on, is not so fair a thing! 
 
 The fairest, rarest morning of the blossom-time of May 
 
 Is not so sweet a season as the season of to-day 
 
 While Youth s diviner climate folds and holds us, close caressed, 
 
 As we feel our mothers with us by the touch of face and breast; 
 
 Our bare feet in the meadows, and our fancies up among 
 
 The airy clouds of morning while the heart beats young. 
 
 While the heart beats young and our pulses leap and dance, 
 
 With every day a holiday and life a glad romance. 
 
 We hear the birds with wonder, and with wonder watch their flight 
 
 Standing still the more enchanted, both of hearing and of sight, 
 
 When they have vanished wholly, for, in fancy, wing-to-wing 
 
 We fly to Heaven with them; and, returning, still we sing 
 
 The praises of this lower Heaven with tireless voice and tongue, 
 
 Even as the Master sanctions while the heart beats young. 
 
 While the heart beats young! While the heart beats young! 
 
 O green and gold old Earth of ours, with azure overhung 
 
 And looped with rainbows! grant us yet this grassy lap of thine 
 
 We would be still thy children, through the shower and the shine! 
 
 526 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 So pray we, lisping, whispering, in childish love and trust, 
 With our beseeching hands and faces lifted from the dust 
 By fervor of the poem, all unwritten and unsung, 
 Thou givest us in answer, while the heart beats young. 
 
 Another hero of those youthful years 
 Returns, as Noey Bixler s name appears. 
 And Noey if in any special way 
 Was notably good-natured. Work or play 
 He entered into with selfsame delight 
 A wholesome interest that made him quite 
 As many friends among the old as young, 
 So everywhere were Noey s praises sung. 
 
 And he was awkward, fat and overgrown, 
 
 With a round full-moon face, that fairly shone 
 
 As though to meet the simile s demand. 
 
 And, cumbrous though he seemed, both eye and hand 
 
 Were dowered with the discernment and deft skill 
 
 Of the true artisan : He shaped at will, 
 
 In his old father s shop, on rainy days, 
 
 Little toy-wagons, and curved-runner sleighs; 
 
 The trimmest bows and arrows fashioned, too, 
 
 Of "seasoned timber," such as Noey knew 
 
 How to select, prepare, and then complete, 
 
 And call his little friends in from the street. 
 
 "The very best bow," Noey used to say, 
 
 "Hain t made o ash ner hick ry thataway! 
 
 But you git mulberry the bearin -tree, 
 
 Now mind ye ! and you fetch the piece to me, 
 
 And lemme git it seasoned; then, i gum ! 
 
 I ll make a bow at you kin brag on some! 
 
 527 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Er ef you can t git mulberry, you bring 
 
 Me a old locus hitch-post, and i jing! 
 
 I ll make a bow o that at common bows 
 
 Won t dast to pick on ner turn up their nose!" 
 
 And Noey knew the woods, and all the trees, 
 
 And thickets, plants and myriad mysteries 
 
 Of swamp and bottom-land. And he knew where 
 
 The ground-hog hid, and why located there. 
 
 He knew all animals that burrowed, swam, 
 
 Or lived in tree-tops : And, by race and dam, 
 
 He knew the choicest, safest deeps wherein 
 
 Fish-traps might flourish nor provoke the sin 
 
 Of theft in some chance peeking, prying sneak, 
 
 Or town-boy, prowling up and down the creek. 
 
 All four-pawed creatures tamable he knew 
 
 Their outer and their inner natures too; 
 
 While they, in turn, were drawn to him as by 
 
 Some subtle recognition of a tie 
 
 Of love, as true as truth from end to end, 
 
 Between themselves and this strange human friend. 
 
 The same with birds he knew them every one, 
 
 And he could "name them, too, without a gun." 
 
 No wonder Johnty loved him, even to 
 
 The verge of worship. Noey led him through 
 
 The art of trapping redbirds yes, and taught 
 
 Him how to keep them when he had them caught 
 
 What food they needed, and just where to swing 
 
 The cage, if he expected them to sing. 
 
 And Bud loved Noey, for the little pair 
 Of stilts he made him ; or the stout old hair 
 Trunk Noey put on wheels, and laid a track 
 Of scantling-railroad for it in the back 
 528 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Part of the barn-lot ; or the cross-bow, made 
 Just like a gun, which deadly weapon laid 
 Against his shoulder as he aimed, and "Sping! 
 He d hear the rusty old nail zoon and sing 
 And zip! your Mr. Bluejaj^ s wing would drop 
 A farewell-feather from the old tree-top! 
 
 And Maymie loved him, for the very small 
 But perfect carriage for her favorite doll 
 A lady s carriage not a baby-cab, 
 But oil-cloth top, and two seats, lined with drab 
 And trimmed with white lace-paper from a case 
 Of shaving-soap his uncle bought some place 
 At auction once. 
 
 And Alex loved him yei 
 
 The best, when Noey brought him, for a pet, 
 A little flying-squirrel, with great eyes 
 Big as a child s : And, childlike otherwise, 
 It was at first a timid, tremulous, coy, 
 Retiring little thing that dodged the boy 
 And tried to keep in Noey s pocket ; till, 
 In time, responsive to his patient will, 
 It became wholly docile, and content 
 With its new master, as he came and went, 
 The squirrel clinging flatly to his breast, 
 Or sometimes scampering its craziest 
 Around his body spirally, and then 
 Down to his very heels and up again. 
 
 And Little Lizzie loved him, as a bee 
 
 Loves a great ripe red apple utterly. 
 
 For Noey s ruddy morning-face she drew 
 
 The window-blind, and tapped the window, too; 
 
 529 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Afar she hailed his coming, as she heard 
 
 His tuneless whistling sweet as any bird 
 
 It seemed to her, the one lame bar or so 
 
 Of old "Wait for the Wagon" hoarse and low 
 
 The sound was, so that, all about the place, 
 
 Folks joked and said that Noey "whistled bass" 
 
 The light remark originally made 
 
 By Cousin Rufus, who knew notes, and played 
 
 The flute with nimble skill, and taste as well, 
 
 And, critical as he was musical, 
 
 Regarded Noey s constant whistling thus 
 
 "Phenominally unmelodious." 
 
 Likewise when Uncle Mart, who shared the love 
 
 Of jest with Cousin Rufus hand-in-glove, 
 
 Said "Noey couldn t whistle Bonny Doon 
 
 Even ! and, he d bet, couldn t carry a tune 
 
 If it had handles to it!" 
 
 But forgive 
 
 The deviations here so fugitive, 
 And turn again to Little Lizzie, whose 
 High estimate of Noey we shall choose 
 Above all others. And to her he was 
 Particularly lovable because 
 He laid the woodland s harvest at her feet. 
 He brought her wild strawberries, honey-sweet 
 And dewy-cool, in mats of greenest moss 
 And leaves, all woven over and across 
 With tender, biting "tongue-grass," and "sheep-sour," 
 And twin-leaved beech-mast, pranked with bud and flower 
 Of every gipsy-blossom of the wild, 
 Dark, tangled forest, dear to any child. 
 
 530 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 All these in season. Nor could barren, drear, 
 White and stark-featured Winter interfere 
 With Noey s rare resources : Still the same 
 He blithely whistled through the snow and came 
 Beneath the window with a Fairy sled ; 
 And Little Lizzie, bundled heels-and-head, 
 He took on such excursions of delight 
 As even "Old Santy" with his reindeer might 
 Have envied her ! And, later, when the snow 
 Was softening toward Spring-time and the glow 
 Of steady sunshine smote upon it, then 
 Came the magician Noey yet again 
 While all the children were away a day 
 Or two at Grandma s ! and behold when they 
 Got home once more ; there, towering taller than 
 The doorway stood a mighty, old Snow-Man ! 
 
 A thing of peerless art a masterpiece 
 
 Doubtless unmatched by even classic Greece 
 
 In heyday of Praxiteles. Alone 
 
 It loomed in lordly grandeur all its own. 
 
 And steadfast, too, for weeks and weeks it stood, 
 
 The admiration of the neighborhood 
 
 As well as of the children Noey sought 
 
 Only to honor in the work he wrought. 
 
 The traveler paid it tribute, as he passed 
 
 Along the highway paused and, turning, cast 
 
 A lingering, last look as though to take 
 
 A vivid print of it, for memory s sake, 
 
 To lighten all the empty, aching miles 
 
 Beyond with brighter fancies, hopes and smiles. 
 
 531 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Hie cynic put aside his biting wit 
 And tacitly declared in praise of it ; 
 And even the apprentice-poet of the town 
 Rose to impassioned heights, and then sat down 
 And penned a panegyric scroll of rhyme 
 That made the Snow-Man famous for all time. 
 
 And though, as now, the ever warmer sun 
 
 Of summer had so melted and undone 
 
 The perishable figure that alas ! 
 
 Not even in dwindled white against the grass 
 
 Was left its latest and minutest ghost, 
 
 The children yet materially, almost 
 
 Beheld it circled round it hand-in-hand 
 
 (Or rather round the place it used to stand) 
 
 With "Ring-a-round-a-rosy i Bottle full 
 
 O posey !" and, with shriek and laugh, would pull 
 
 From seeming contact with it just as when 
 
 It was the real-est of old Snow-Men. 
 
 Even in such a scene of senseless play 
 The children were surprised one summer day 
 By a strange man who called across the fence, 
 Inquiring for their father s residence ; 
 And, being answered that this was the place, 
 Opened the gate, and, with a radiant face, 
 Came in and sat down with them in the shade. 
 And waited till the absent father made 
 His noon appearance, with a warmth and zest 
 That told he had no ordinary guest 
 In this man whose low-spoken name he knew 
 At once, demurring as the stranger drew 
 
 532 
 
THE 1IOOS1KR BOOK 
 
 A stuffy note-book out, and turned and set 
 
 A big fat finger on a page, and let 
 
 The writing thereon testify instead 
 
 Of further speech. And as the father read 
 
 All silently, the curious children took 
 
 Exacting inventory both of book 
 
 And man : He wore a long-napped white fur hat 
 
 Pulled firmly on his head, and under that 
 
 Rather long silvery hair, or iron-gray 
 
 For he was not an old man, anyway, 
 
 Not beyond sixty. And he wore a pair 
 
 Of square-framed spectacles or rather there 
 
 Were two more than a pair, the extra two 
 
 Flared at the corners, at the e) r es side-view, 
 
 2 fi/\. 
 
 In as redundant vision as the eyes 
 
 Of grasshoppers or bees or dragon-flies. 
 
 Later the children heard the father say 
 
 He was "A Noted Traveler," and would stay 
 
 Some days with them In which time host and guest 
 
 Discussed, alone, in deepest interest, 
 
 Some vague, mysterious matter that defied 
 
 The wistful children, loitering outside 
 
 The spare-room door. There Bud acquired a quite 
 
 New list of big words such as "Disunite," 
 
 And "Shibboleth," and "Aristocracy," 
 
 And "Juggernaut," and "Squatter Sovereignty," 
 
 And "Anti-slavery," "Emancipate," 
 
 "Irrepressible Conflict," and "The Great 
 
 Battle of Armageddon" obviously 
 
 A pamphlet brought from Washington, D. C, 
 
 And spread among such friends as might occur 
 
 Of like views with "The Noted Traveler." 
 
 533 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 253 Maymie s Story of Red Riding- 
 Hood 
 
 W Y, one time wuz a little-weenty dirl, 
 An* she wuz named Red Riding-Hood, cause her 
 Her Ma she maked a little red cloak fer her 
 At turnt up over her head An it uz all 
 1st one piece o red cardinal at s like 
 The drate-long stockin s the store-keepers has. 
 Oh ! it uz purtiest cloak in all the world 
 An all this town er anywheres they is ! 
 An so, one day, her Ma she put it on 
 Red Riding-Hood, she did one day, she did 
 An it uz Sund y cause the little cloak 
 It uz too nice to wear ist ever day 
 An* all the time ! An* so her Ma, she put 
 It on Red Riding-Hood an telled her not 
 To dit no dirt on it ner dit it mussed 
 Ner nothin ! An an nen her Ma she dot 
 Her little basket out, at Old Kriss bringed 
 Her wunst one time, he did. And nen she fill 
 It full o whole lots an bundance o dood things t ca< 
 (Allus my Dran ma she says " bundance," too.) 
 An so her Ma fill little Red Riding-Hood s 
 Nice basket all ist full o dood things t eat, 
 An tell her take em to her old Dran ma 
 An not to spill em, neever cause ef she 
 Ud stump her toe an spill em, her Dran ma 
 She ll haf to punish her! 
 
 534 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An nen An so 
 
 Little Red Riding-Hood she p omised she 
 Ud be all careful nen an cross her heart 
 At she won t run an spill em all fer six 
 Five ten two-hundred-bushel-dollars-gold ! 
 An nen she kiss her Ma doo -by an went 
 A-skippin off away fur off frough the 
 Big woods, where her Dran ma she live at No ! 
 She didn t do a-skippin , like I said: 
 She 1st went walkin careful-like an slow 
 1st like a little lady walkin long 
 As all polite an nice an slow an straight 
 An* turn her toes ist like she s marchin in 
 The Sund y-School k-session ! 
 
 An an so 
 
 She uz a-doin along an doin* along 
 On frough the drate-big woods cause her Dran ma 
 She live way, way fur off frough the big woods 
 From her Ma s house. So when Red Riding-Hood 
 Dit to do there, she allus have most fun 
 When she do frough the drate-big woods, you know 
 Cause she ain t f card a bit o anything ! 
 An so she sees the little hoppty-birds 
 At s in the trees, an flyin all around, 
 An singin dlad as ef their parunts said 
 They ll take em to the magic-lantern show! 
 An* she ud pull the purty flowers an things 
 A-growin round the stumps An she ud ketch 
 The purty butterflies, an drasshoppers, 
 An* stick pins frough em No ! I ist said that ! 
 Cause she s too dood an kind an bedient 
 
 535 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 To hurt things thataway. She d ketch em, though, 
 
 An ist play wiv em ist a little while, 
 
 An nen she d let em fly away, she would, 
 
 An ist skip on ad in to her Dran mas. 
 
 An so, while she uz doin long an long, 
 
 First thing you know they uz a drate-big old 
 
 Mean wicked Wolf jumped out at wanted t* eat 
 
 Her up, but dassent to cause wite clos t there 
 
 They wuz a Man a-choppin wood, an* you 
 
 Could hear him. So the old Wolf he uz fcard 
 
 Only to ist be kind to her. So he 
 
 Ist tended-like he wuz dood friends to her 
 
 An says "Dood morning, little Red Riding-Hood 1" 
 
 All ist as kind ! 
 
 An* nen Riding-Hood 
 
 She say "Dood morning," too, all kind an nice 
 Ist like her Ma she learn No ! mustn t say 
 "Learn," cause "Learn" it s unproper. So she say 
 It like her Ma she {< teachcd" her. An so she 
 Ist says "Dood morning" to the Wolf cause she 
 Don t know ut-tall at he : -*, wicked Wolf 
 An want to eat her up! 
 
 An nen old Wolf smile 
 
 An . say, so kind: "Where air you doin at?" 
 Nen little Red Riding-Hood she say: "I m doin 
 To my Dran ma s, cause my Ma say I might." 
 Nen, when she tell him that, the old Wolf he 
 Ist turn an light out f rough the big thick woods, 
 Where she can t see him any more. An so 
 She think he s went to his house but he hain t, 
 He s went to her Dran ma s, to be there first 
 
 536 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An ketch her, ef she don t watch mighty sharp 
 What she s about! 
 
 An nen when the old Wolf 
 Dit to her Dran ma s house, he s purty smart, 
 An so he tend-like he s Red Riding-Hood, 
 An knock at th door. An Riding-Hood s Dran ma 
 She s sick in bed an can t come to the door 
 An open it. So th old Wolf knock two times. 
 An nen Red Riding-Hood s Dran ma she says, 
 "Who s there ?" she says. An old Wolf tends-like he 
 Little Red Riding-Hood, you know, an make 
 His voice soun ist like hers, an says: "It s me, 
 Dran ma an I m Red Riding-Hood an I m 
 Ist come to see you." 
 
 Nen her old Dran ma 
 She think it is little Red Riding-Hood, 
 An so she say: "Well, come in nen an make 
 You se f at home," she says, " cause I m down sick 
 In bed, and got the ralgia, so s I can t 
 Dit up an let ye in." 
 
 An so th old Wolf 
 Ist march in nen an shet the door ad in, 
 An* drowl, he did, an splunge up on the bed 
 An et up old Miz Riding-Hood fore she 
 Could put her specs on an see who it wuz. 
 An* so she never knowed who et her up! 
 An nen the wicked Wolf he ist put on 
 Her nightcap, an all covered up in bed 
 Like he wuz her, you know. 
 
 Nen, purty soon 
 
 Here come along little Red Riding-Hood, 
 An* she knock* at the door. An old Wolf tend- 
 
 137 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Like he s her Dran ma ; an he say, "Who s there?" 
 1st like her Dran ma say, you know. An so 
 Little Red Riding-Hood she say : "It s me, 
 Dran ma an I m Red Riding-Hood and I m 
 1st come to see you." 
 
 An nen old Wolf nen 
 
 He cough an say: "Well, come in nen an make 
 You se f at home," he says, " cause I m down sick 
 In bed, an got the ralgia, so s I can t 
 Dit up an let ye in." 
 
 An so she _ think 
 
 It s her Dran ma a-talkin . So she ist 
 Open the door an come in, an set down 
 Her basket, an taked off her things, an bringed 
 A chair an clumbed up on the bed, wite by 
 The old big Wolf she thinks is her Dran ma 
 Only she thinks the old Wolf s dot whole lots 
 More bigger ears, an lots more whiskers, too, 
 Than her Dran ma ; an so Red Riding-Hood 
 She s kind o skeered a little. So she says 
 "Oh, Dran ma, what big eyes you dot!" An nen 
 The old W T olf says : "They re ist big thataway 
 Cause I m so dlad to see you!" 
 
 Nen she says, 
 
 "Oh, Dran ma, what a drate-big nose you dot !" 
 Nen th old Wolf says : "It s ist big thataway 
 Ist cause I smell the dood things at you bringed 
 Me in the basket !" 
 
 An nen Riding-Hood 
 
 She says, "Oh-me-oh-wry / Dran ma! what big 
 White long sharp teeth you dot!" 
 
 538 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Nen old Wolf says : 
 
 "Yes an they re thataway," an drowled 
 "They re thataway," he says, "to cat you wiv !" 
 An nen he ist jump at her. 
 
 But she scream 
 
 An scream , she did. So s at the Man 
 At wuz a-choppin wood, you know, he hear, 
 An come a-runnin in there wiv his ax ; 
 An , fore the old Wolf know what he s about, 
 He split his old brains out an killed him s quick 
 It make his head swim ! An Red Riding-Hood 
 She wuzn t hurt at all ! 
 
 An the big Man 
 
 He tooked her all safe home, he did, an tell 
 Her Ma she s all right an ain t hurt at all 
 An old Wolf s dead an killed an everything ! 
 So her Ma wuz so tickled an so proud, 
 She divved him all the dood things t eat they wuz 
 At s in the basket, an she tell him at 
 She s much oblige , an say to "call ad in." 
 An story s honest truth an all so, too ! 
 
 254 Bud s Fairy Tale 
 
 SOME peoples thinks they ain t no Fairies now 
 No more yet! But they is, I bet! Cause ef 
 They wuzn t Fairies, nen I like to know 
 Who d w ite bout Fairies in the books, an tell 
 What Fairies does, an how their picture looks, 
 An all an ever thing! W y, ef they don t 
 Be Fairies any more, nen little boys 
 
 533 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Ud ist sleep when they go to sleep an won t 
 
 Have ist no dweams at all, cause Fairies good 
 
 Fairies they re a-purpose to make dweams ! 
 
 But they is Fairies an I know they is! 
 
 Cause one time wunst, when it s all Summer-time, 
 
 An don t haf to be no fires in the stove 
 
 Er fireplace to keep warm wiv ner don t haf 
 
 To wear old scwatchy flannen shirts at all, 
 
 An ain t no fweeze ner cold ner snow ! An an 
 
 Old skweeky twees got all the gween leaves on 
 
 An ist keeps noddin , noddin all the time, 
 
 Like they uz lazy an a-twyin to go 
 
 To sleep an couldn t, cause the wind won t quit 
 
 A-blowin in em, an the birds won t stop 
 
 A-singin , so s they kin. But twees don t sleep, 
 
 I guess ! But little boys sleeps an dweams, too. 
 
 An that s a sign they s Fairies. 
 
 So, one time, 
 
 When I be n playin "Store" wunst over in 
 The shed of their old stable, an Ed Howard 
 He maked me quit a-bein pardners, cause 
 I dwinked the tend-like sody-water up 
 An et the shore-nuff cwackers, w y, nen I 
 Clumbed over in our garden where the gwapes 
 Wtiz purt nigh ripe : An I wuz ist a-layin* 
 There on th old cwooked seat at Pa maked in 
 Our arber, an* so I uz layin there 
 A-whittlin beets wiv my new dog-knife, an 
 A-lookin wite up thue the twimbly leaves 
 An wtizn t, sleep at all! An -sir ! first thing 
 You know, a little Fairy hopped out there ! 
 A leetle-teenty Fairy! hope -may - die! 
 
 540 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An* he look down at me, he did an he 
 Ain t bigger n a yellerbird! an he 
 Say "Howdy-do!" he did an I could hear 
 Him ist as plain! 
 
 Nen 7 say "Howdy-do !" 
 An he say "I m all hunky, Nibsey ; how 
 Is your folks comin on?" 
 
 An nen I say 
 
 "My name ain t Nibsey, neever my name s Bud.- 
 An* what s your name?" I says to him. 
 
 An he 
 
 Ist laugh an say, " Bud s awful funny name !" 
 An he ist laid back on a big bunch o gwapes 
 An laugh an laugh , he did like somebody 
 Uz tick-el-un his feet! 
 
 z f- An* nen I say 
 
 "What s your name," nen I say, "afore you bu st 
 Yo se f a-laughin bout my name?" I says. 
 An nen he dwy up laughin kind o mad 
 An say, "W y, my name s Squidjicum" he says. 
 An nen / laugh an say "Gee ! what a name !" 
 An when I make fun of his name, like that, 
 He ist git awful mad an spunky, an 
 Fore you know, he ist gwabbed holt of a vine 
 A big long vine at s danglin up there, an 
 He ist helt on wite tight to that, an down 
 He swung quick past my face, he did, an ist 
 Kicked at me hard s he could! 
 
 But I m too quick 
 
 Fer Mr. Squidjicum! I ist weached out 
 An ketched him, in my hand an helt him, too, 
 An squeezed him, ist like little wobins when 
 
 5 IT 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They can t fly yet an git flopped out their nest. 
 
 An nen I turn him all wound over, an 
 
 Look at him clos t, you know wite clos t, cause ef 
 
 He is a Fairy, w y, I want to see 
 
 The wings he s got. But he s dwessed up so fine 
 
 At I can t see no wings. An all the time 
 
 He s twyin to kick me yet: An so I take 
 
 F esh holts an squeeze ag in an harder, too ; 
 
 An I says. "Hold up, Mr. Squid jicum! 
 
 You re kickin the wrong man !" I says ; an nen 
 
 I ist squeeze him, pttrt nigh my best, I did 
 
 An I heerd somepin bu st ! An nen he cwied 
 
 An* says, "You better look out what you re doin ! 
 
 You bu st my spiderweb-suspenners, an 
 
 You got my woseleaf-coat all cwinkled up 
 
 So s I can t go to old Miss Hoodjicum s 
 
 Tea-party, s afternoon !" 
 
 An* nen I says 
 "Who s old Miss Hoodjicum ?" I says 
 
 An he 
 
 Says, "Ef you lemme loose I ll tell you." 
 
 So 
 
 I helt the little skeezics way fur out 
 In one hand so s he can t jump down t th ground 
 Wivout a-gittin all stove up: an nen 
 I says, "You re loose now. Go ahead an* tell 
 Bout the tea-party where you re goin at 
 So awful fast!" I says. 
 
 An* nen he say, 
 
 "No use to tell you bout it, cause you won t 
 Believe it, less you go there your own se f 
 An see it wiv your own two eyes!" he says. 
 
 542 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An* he says : "Ef you lemme shore-nuff loose, 
 An p omise at you ll keep wite still, an won t 
 Tetch nothin at you see an never tell 
 Nobody in the world an lemme loose 
 W y, nen I ll take you there!" 
 
 But I says, "Yes 
 
 An ef I let you loose, you ll run!" I says. 
 An he says, "No, I won t ! I hope-may-die !" 
 Ncn I says, "Cwoss your heart you won t!" 
 
 An he 
 
 1st cwoss his heart; an nen I weach an set 
 The little feller up on a long vine 
 An he uz so tickled to git loose ag in, 
 He gwab the vine wiv boff his little hands 
 An ist take an* turn in, he did, an skin 
 Bout f orty- leben cats ! 
 
 Nen when he git 
 
 Thue whirlin wound the vine, an set on top 
 Of it ag in, w y ner * his "woseleaf-coat" 
 He bwag so much about, it s ist all tored 
 Up, an ist hangin strips an rags so he 
 Look like his Pa s a dwunkard. An so nen 
 When he see what he s done a-actin up 
 So smart, he s awful mad, I guess ; an ist 
 Pout out his lips an tvvis his little face 
 Ist ugly as he kin, an set an tear 
 His whole coat off an sleeves an all. An nen 
 He wad it all togevver an ist throw 
 It at me ist as hard as he kin dwive ! 
 An when I weach to ketch him, an uz goin 
 To give him nuvver squeezin , he ist flewcd 
 Clean up on top the arber! Cause, you know, 
 
 543 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 They wuz wings on him when he tored his coat 
 Clean off they wuz wings under there. But they 
 Wuz purty wobbly-like an wouldn t work 
 Hardly at all Cause purty soon, when I 
 Th owed clods at him, an sticks, an got him shooed 
 Down off o there, he come a-floppin down 
 An lit k-bang! on our old chicken-coop, 
 An ist laid there a-whimper n like a child ! 
 An I tiptoed up wite clos t, an I says, "What s 
 The matter wiv ye, Squidjicum?" 
 
 An he 
 
 Says : "Dog-gone ! when my wings gits stwaight ag in, 
 Where you all czvumpled em," he says, "I bet 
 I ll ist fly clean away an won t take you 
 To old Miss Hoodjicum s at all!" he says. 
 An nen I ist weach out wite quick, I did, 
 An gwab the sassy little snipe ag in 
 Nen tooked my top-string an tie down his wings 
 So s he can t fly, less n I want him to ! 
 An nen I says: "Now, Mr. Squidjicum, 
 You better ist light out," I says, "to old 
 Miss Hoodjicum s, an show me how to git 
 There, too," I says; "er ef you don t," I says, 
 "I ll climb up wiv you on our buggy-shed 
 An push you off !" I says. 
 
 An* nen he say 
 
 All wight, he ll show me there; an tell me nen 
 To set him down wite easy on his feet, 
 An loosen up the stwing a little where 
 It cut him under th arms. An nen he says, 
 "Come on!" he says; an went a-limpin long 
 The garden-path an limpin long an long 
 
 544 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Tel purty soon he come on long to where s 
 A grea -big cabbage-leaf. An he stoop down 
 An say, "Come on inunder here wiv me !" 
 So / stoop down an crawl inunder there, 
 Like he say. 
 
 An inunder there s a grea - 
 Big clod, they is a awful grea -big clod ! 
 An* nen he says, "Woll this-here clod away!" 
 An* so I woll* the clod away. An nen 
 It s all wet, where the dew z inunder where 
 The old clod wuz, an* nen the Fairy he 
 Git on the wet-place : Nen he say to me, 
 "Git on the wet-place, too !" An nen he say, 
 "Now hold yer breff an shet yer eyes!" he says, 
 "Tel I say Squinchy-winchy!" Nen he say 
 Somepin in Dutch, I guess. An nen I felt 
 Like we uz sinkin down an sinkin down ! 
 Tel purty soon the little Fairy weach 
 An pinch my nose an yell at me an say, 
 "Squinchy-winchy! Look -wherever you please!" 
 Nen when I looked Oh! they uz purtyest place 
 Down there you ever saw in all the World ! 
 They uz ist flowers an woses yes, an* twees 
 Wiv blossoms on an big wipe apples boff ! 
 An butterflies, they wuz an hummin -birds 
 An yellerbirds an bluebirds yes, an wed! 
 An* ever wheres an all awound uz vines 
 Wiv ripe p serve-pears on em! Yes, an all 
 An ever thing at s ever gwowin in 
 A garden er canned up all wipe at wunst! 
 It wuz ist like a garden only it 
 Uz little bit o garden bout big wound 
 
 545 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 As ist our twun el-bed is. An all wound 
 
 An wound the little garden s a gold fence 
 
 An little gold gate, too an ash-hopper 
 
 At s all gold, too an ist full o gold ashes! 
 
 An wite in th middle o* the garden wuz 
 
 A little gold house, at s ist bout as big 
 
 As ist a bird-cage is : An in the house 
 
 They uz whole-lots more Fairies there cause I 
 
 Picked up the little house, an peeked in at 
 
 The winders, an I see em all in there 
 
 Ist bug gin wound! An Mr. Squidjicum 
 
 He twy to make me quit, but I gwab him, 
 
 An* poke him down the chimbly, too, I did ! 
 
 An y ort to see him hop out mongst em there! 
 
 Ist like he uz the boss an ist got back ! 
 
 "Hain t ye got on t hem-air dew-dump tin s yet?" 
 
 He says. 
 
 An they says no. 
 
 An nen he says 
 
 "Better git at em nen!" he says, "wite quick 
 Cause old Miss Hoodjicum s a-eomin !" 
 
 Nen 
 
 They all set wound a little gold tub an 
 All menced a-peelin dewdwops, ist like they 
 Uz peaches. An , it looked so funny, I 
 Ist laugh out loud, an dwopped the little house, 
 An* t bu sted like a soap-bubble ! An t skeered 
 Me so, I I I I, it skeered me so, 
 I ist waked up. No ! I ain t be n asleep 
 An dweam it all, like you think, but it s shore 
 Fer-certain fact an* cwoss my heart it is ! 
 
 546 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 The Bear Story 
 
 THAT ALEX "iST MAKED UP HIS-OWN-SEV 
 
 W Y, WUNST they wuz a Little Boy went out 
 In the woods to shoot a bear. So, he went out 
 Way in the grea -big woods he did. An he 
 Wuz goin along an goin along, you know, 
 An purty soon he heerd somepin go "Wo oh I" 
 1st thataway "Woo-ooh!" An he wuz skcercd, 
 He wuz. An so he runned an clumbed a tree 
 A grea -big tree, he did, a sicka-won? tree. 
 An nen he heerd it ag in : an he looked round, 
 An* t us a Bear! a grea -big, shorc-nuff Bear! 
 No : t uz two Bears, it wuz two grea -big Bears 
 One of em wuz 1st one s a grea -big Bear. 
 But they ist boff went "Wooh!" An here they come 
 To climb the tree an git the Little Boy 
 An eat him up ! 
 
 An nen the Little Boy 
 
 He uz skeered worse n ever ! An here come 
 The grea -big Bear a-climbin* th tree to git 
 The Little Boy an eat him up Oh, no! 
 It uzn t the Big Bear at dumb the tree- 
 It uz the Little Bear. So here he come 
 Climbin the tree an climbin the tree ! Nen when 
 He git wite clos t to the Little Boy, w y, nen 
 The Little Boy he ist pulled up his gun 
 An shot the Bear, he did, an killed him dead! 
 An nen the Bear he failed clean on down out 
 
 547 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The tree away clean to the ground, he did 
 Spliny-splung! he failed plum down, an killed him, 
 
 too! 
 An lit wite side o where the Big Bear s at. 
 
 An nen the Big Bear s awful mad, you bet! 
 
 Cause cause the Little Boy he shot his gun 
 
 An killed the Little Bear. Cause the Big Bear 
 
 He he uz the Little Bear s Papa. An so here 
 
 He come to climb the big old tree an git 
 
 The Little Boy an eat him up ! An when 
 
 The Little Boy he saw the grea -big Bear 
 
 A-comin , he uz badder skeered, he wuz, 
 
 Than any time ! An so he think he ll climb 
 
 Up higher way up higher in the tree 
 
 Than the old Bear kin climb, you know. But he 
 
 He can t climb higher an old Bears kin climb, 
 
 Cause Bears kin climb up higher in the trees 
 
 Than any little Boys in all the Wo-r-r-ld ! 
 
 An so here come the grea -big Bear, he did, 
 A-climbin up an up the tree, to git 
 The Little Boy an eat him up ! An so 
 The Little Boy he clumbed on higher, an higher, 
 An higher up the tree an higher an higher 
 An higher n iss-here house is ! An here come 
 Th old Bear clos ter to him all the time ! 
 An nen first thing you know, when th old Big 
 
 Bear 
 
 Wuz wite clos t to him nen the Little Boy 
 1st jabbed his gun wite in the old Bear s mouf 
 
 548 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 An shot an killed him dead ! No ; I f ergot, 
 He didn t shoot the grea -big Bear at all 
 Cause they us no load in the gun, you know 
 Cause when he shot the Little Bear, w y, nen 
 No load uz any more nen in the gun ! 
 
 But th Little Boy clumbed higher up, he did 
 
 He clumbed lots higher an on up higher an higher 
 
 An higher tel he ist can t climb no higher, 
 
 Cause nen the limbs uz all so little, way 
 
 Up in the teeny-weeny tip-top of 
 
 The tree, they d break down wiv him ef he don t 
 
 Be keerful ! So he stop an think : An nen 
 
 He look around An here come the old Bear ! 
 
 An so the Little Boy make up his mind 
 
 He s got to ist git out o there some way ! 
 
 Cause here come the old Bear ! so clos t, his bref s 
 
 Purt nigh so s he kin feel how hot it is 
 
 Ag inst his bare feet ist like old "Ring s" bref 
 
 When he s be n out a-huntin an s all tired. 
 
 So when th old Bear s so clos t the Little Boy 
 
 Ist gives a grea -big jump fer Another tree 
 
 No ! no, he don t do that ! I tell you what 
 
 The Little Boy does : W y, nen w y, he Oh, yes 
 
 The Little Boy he finds a hole up there 
 
 At s in the tree an climbs in there an hides 
 
 An nen the old Bear can t find the Little Boy 
 
 At all ! But purty soon the old Bear finds 
 
 The Little Boy s gun at s up there cause the gun 
 
 It s too tall to tooked wiv him in the hole. 
 
 So, when the old Bear find the gun, he knows 
 
 549 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 The Little Boy ist hid round somcrs there, 
 
 An th* old Bear gins to snuff an sniff around, 
 
 An sniff an snuff around so s he kin find 
 
 Out where the Little Boy s hid at. An nen nen 
 
 Oh, yes! W y, purty soon the old Bear climhs 
 
 Way out on a big limb a grea -long limb, 
 
 An nen the Little Boy climbs out the hole 
 
 An takes his ax an chops the limb off ! . . . Nen 
 
 The old Bear falls k-splunge! clean to the ground 
 
 An bu st an kill hisse f plum dead, he did ! 
 
 An nen the Little Boy he git his gun 
 
 An menced a-climbin down the tree ag in 
 
 No ! no, he didn t git his gun cause when 
 
 The Bear failed, nen the gun failed, too An broked 
 
 It all to pieces, too ! An nicest gun ! 
 
 His Pa ist buyed it ! An the Little Boy 
 
 Ist cried, he did ; an went on climbin down 
 
 The tree an climbin down an climbin down ! 
 
 An -sir! when he uz purt nigh down, w y, nen 
 
 The old Bear he jumped up ag in! an he 
 
 Ain t dead at all ist tendin thataway, 
 
 So he kin git the Little Boy an eat 
 
 Him up ! But the Little Boy he uz too smart 
 
 To climb clean down the tree. An the old Bear 
 
 He can t climb up the tree no more cause when 
 
 He fell, he broke one of his He broke all 
 
 His legs ! an nen he couldn t climb ! But he 
 
 Ist won t go way an let the Little Boy 
 
 Come down out of the tree. An the old Bear 
 
 Ist growls round there, he does ist growls an goes 
 
 550 
 
THE IIOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "Wooh!woo-ooh!" all the time! An Little Boy 
 
 He haf to stay up in the tree all night 
 
 An thout no supper neever ! Only they 
 
 Wuz apples on the tree ! An Little Boy 
 
 Et apples ist all night an cried an cried ! 
 
 Nen when t uz morning th old Bear went "Wooh! 
 
 Ag in, an try to climb up in the tree 
 
 An git the Little Boy. But he can t 
 
 Climb t save his soul, he can t An oh! he s mad! 
 
 He ist tear up the ground! an go "Woo-ooh!" 
 
 An Oh, yes! purty soon, when morning s come 
 
 All light so s you kin see, you know, w y, nen 
 
 The old Bear finds the Little Boy s gun, you know, 
 
 At s on the ground. (An it ain t broke at all 
 
 I ist said that!) An so the old Bear think 
 
 He ll take the gun an shoot the Little Boy : 
 
 But Bears they don t know much bout shootin guns : 
 
 So when he go to shoot the Little Boy, 
 
 The old Bear got the other end the gun 
 
 Ag in his shoulder, stid o th other end 
 
 So when he try to shoot the Little Boy, 
 
 It shot the Bear, it did an killed him dead ! 
 
 An nen the Little Boy dumb down the tree 
 
 An chopped his old woolly head off. Yes, an killed 
 
 The other Bear ag in, he did an killed 
 
 All boff the bears, he did an tuk em home 
 
 An cooked em, too, an et em ! 
 
 An that s all. 
 
 551 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 \i/. | MTliJ 0*j IIjJ - J ViV>}V -.- -C. /?-.* iSi- V 4V 
 
 Uncle Mart s Poem 
 
 THE OLD SNOW MAN 
 
 HO ! the old Snow-Man 
 That Noey Bixler made ! 
 He looked as fierce and sassy 
 As a soldier on parade ! 
 Cause Noey, when he made him, 
 
 While we all wuz gone, you see, 
 He made him, jist a-purpose, 
 Jist as fierce as he could be ! 
 But when we all got ust to him, 
 
 Nobody wuz afraid 
 Of the old Snow-Man 
 That Noey Bixler made ! 
 
 Cause Noey told us bout him 
 
 And what he made him f er : 
 He d come to feed, that morning, 
 
 He found we wuzn t here ; 
 And so the notion struck him, 
 
 When we all come taggin home 
 T ud s prise us ef a old Snow-Man 
 
 Ud meet us when we come ! 
 So, when he d fed the stock, and milked, 
 
 And be n back home, and chopped 
 His wood, and et his breakfast, he 
 
 Jist grabbed his mitts and hopped 
 Right in on that-air old Snow-Man 
 
 That he laid out he d make 
 552 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Er bu st a trace a-tryin jist 
 Fer old-acquaintance-sake ! 
 
 But work like that wuz lots more fun, 
 
 He said, than when he played ! 
 Ho! the old Snow-Man 
 That Noey Bixler made ! 
 
 He started with a big snow-ball, 
 
 And rolled it all around ; 
 And as he rolled, more snow ud stick 
 
 And pull up off the ground. 
 He rolled and rolled all round the yard 
 
 Cause we could see the track, 
 All wher the snow come off, you know, 
 
 And left it wet and black. 
 He got the Snow-Man s legs-part rolled 
 
 In front the kitchen-door, 
 And then he hat to turn in then 
 
 And roll and roll some more ! 
 He rolled the yard all round ag in, 
 
 And round the house, at that 
 Clean round the house and back to wher 
 
 The blame legs-half wuz at ! 
 
 He said he missed his dinner, too 
 
 Jist clean fergot and stayed 
 There workin . Oh ! the old Snow-Man 
 That Noey Bixler made ! 
 
 And Noey said he hat to hump 
 
 To git the top-half on 
 The legs-half! When he did, he said, 
 
 His wind wuz purt nigh gone. 
 
 553 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 He said, i jucks! he jist drapped down 
 
 There on the old porch-floor 
 And panted like a dog! And then 
 He up ! and rolled some more ! 
 The last batch that wuz fer his head, 
 
 And time he d got it right 
 And dumb and fixed it on, he said 
 
 He hat to quit fer night! 
 And then, he said, he d kep right on 
 
 Ef they d be n any moon 
 To work by ! So he crawled in bed 
 And could a slep tel noon, 
 
 He wuz so plum wore out ! he said,- 
 
 But it wuz washin -day, 
 And hat to cut a cord o wood 
 Fore he could git away! 
 
 But, last, he got to work ag in, 
 
 With spade, and gouge, and hoe, 
 And trowel, too (All tools ud do 
 
 What Nocy said, you know!) 
 He cut his eyebrows out like cliffs 
 
 And his cheek-bones and chin 
 Stuck furdcr out and his old nose 
 
 Stuck out as f ur-ag in ! 
 He made his eyes o walnuts, 
 
 And his whiskers out o this- 
 Here buggy-cushion stuffin moss, 
 
 The teacher says it is. 
 And then he made a old wood -gun, 
 
 Set keerless-like, you know, 
 
 554 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Acrost one shoulder kind o like 
 Big Foot, er Adam Poe 
 Er, mayby, Simon Girty, 
 
 The dinged old Renegade! 
 Wooh! the old Snow-Man 
 That Noey Bixler made ! 
 
 And there he stood, all fierce and grim, 
 
 A stern, heroic form : 
 What was the winter blast to him, 
 
 And what the driving storm? 
 What wonder that the children pressed 
 
 Their faces at the pane 
 And scratched away the frost, in pride 
 To look on him again ? 
 
 What wonder that, with yearning bold, 
 
 Their all of love and care 
 Went warmest through the keenest cold 
 To that Snow-Man out there ! 
 
 But the old Snow-Man 
 
 What a dubious delight 
 He grew at last when Spring came on 
 
 And days waxed warm and bright. 
 Alone he stood all kith and kin 
 
 Of snow and ice were gone; 
 Alone, with constant tear-drops in 
 
 His eyes and glittering on 
 His thin, pathetic beard of black 
 
 Grief in a hopeless cause ! 
 Hope hope is for the man that dies 
 
 What for the man that thaws! 
 
 555 
 
THE HOOSIKR BOOK 
 
 O Hero of a hero s make! 
 Let marble melt and fade, 
 
 But never you you old Snow-Man 
 That Noey Bixler made! 
 
 
 icrft n^m aii} io\ 
 556 
 
MISCELLANY 
 
 The Gmoine Ar-ticklc 
 
 r F\A.LKIN o poetry There re few men yit 
 JL At s got the stuff b iled down so s it ll pour 
 
 Out sorghum-like, and keeps a year and more 
 Jes sweeter ever time you tackle it! 
 W y> all the jinglin truck at hes been writ 
 
 Fer twenty year and better is so pore 
 
 You cain t find no sap in it any more 
 N you d find juice in puff-balls! And I d quit! 
 What people wants is facts, I apperhend; 
 
 And naked Natur is the thing to give 
 Your writin bottom, eh ? And I contend 
 
 At honest work is allus bound to live. 
 Now them s my views ; cause you kin recommend 
 Sich poetry as that from end to end. 
 
 258 Lines to An Onsettled Young 
 Man 
 
 WHAT is Life at last," says you, 
 "At woman folks and man folks too, 
 Cain t, oncomplainin , worry through? 
 
 "An what is Love, at no one yit 
 At s monkeyed with it kin forgit, 
 Er gits fat on remember n hit? 
 
 557 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 "An what is Death?" W y, looky hyur- 
 Ef Life an Love don t suit you, sir, 
 Hit s jes the thing yer lookin f er ! 
 
 What Smith Knew About 
 Farming 
 
 THERE wasn t two purtier farms in the state 
 Than the couple of which I m about to relate; 
 Jinin each other belongin to Brown, 
 And jest at the edge of a flourishin town. 
 Brown was a man, as I understand, 
 That allus had handled a good eal o land, 
 And was sharp as a tack in drivin a trade 
 For that s the way most of his money was made. 
 And all the grounds and the orchards about 
 His two pet farms was all tricked out 
 With poppies and posies 
 And sweet-smellin rosies ; 
 And hundreds o kinds 
 Of all sorts o vines, 
 
 To tickle the most horticultural minds ; 
 And little dwarf trees not as thick as your wrist 
 With ripe apples on em as big as your fist : 
 And peaches, Siberian crabs and pears, 
 And quinces Well ! any fruit any tree bears ; 
 And the purtiest stream jest a-swimmin with fish, 
 And jest a most everything heart could wish! 
 The purtiest orch rds I wish you could see 
 How purty they was, fer I know it ud be 
 
 558 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 A regular treat ! but I ll go ahead with 
 My story ! A man by the name o Smith 
 (A bad name to rhyme, 
 But I reckon that I m 
 Not goin back on a Smith! nary time!) 
 At hadn t a soul of kin nor kith, 
 And more money than he knowed what to do with, 
 So he comes a-ridin along one day, 
 And he says to Brown, in his offhand way 
 Who was trainin some newfangled vines round a bay- 
 Winder "Howdjr-do look-a-here say: 
 What ll you take fer this property here? 
 I m talkin o leavin the city this year, 
 And I want to be 
 Where the air is free, 
 
 And I ll buy this place, if it ain t too dear!" 
 Well they grumbled and jawed aroun 
 "I don t like to part with the place," says Brown ; 
 "Well," says Smith, a-jerkin his head, 
 "That house yonder bricks painted red 
 Jest like this n a purtier view 
 Who is it owns it?" "That s mine too," 
 Says Brown, as he winked at a hole in his shoe, 
 "But I ll tell you right here jest what I kin do : 
 If you ll pay the figgers I ll sell it to you." 
 Smith went over and looked at the place 
 Badgered with Brown, and argied the case 
 Thought that Brown s figgers was rather too tall, 
 But, findin that Brown wasn t goin to fall, 
 In final agreed, 
 So they drawed up the deed 
 Fer the farm and the fixtures the live stock an all 
 
 559 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And so Smith moved from the city as soon 
 
 As he possibly could But "the man in the moon" 
 
 Knowed more n Smith o farmin pursuits, 
 
 And jest to convince you, and have no disputes, 
 
 How little he knowed, 
 
 I ll tell you his "mode," 
 
 As he called it, o raisin "the best that growed," 
 
 In the way o potatoes 
 
 Cucumbers tomatoes, 
 
 And squashes as lengthy as young alligators. 
 
 Twas allus a curious thing to me 
 
 How big a fool a feller kin be 
 
 When he gits on a farm after leavin a town ! 
 
 Expectin to raise himself up to renown, 
 
 And reap fer himself agricultural fame, 
 
 By growin of squashes without any shame 
 
 As useless and long as a technical name. 
 
 To make the soil pure, 
 
 And certainly sure, 
 
 He plastered the ground with patent manure. 
 
 He had cultivators, and double-hoss plows, 
 
 And patent machines fer milkin his cows ; 
 
 And patent ha}^-forks patent measures and weights 
 
 And new patent back-action hinges fer gates, 
 
 And barn locks and latches, and such little dribs 
 
 And patents to keep the rats out o the cribs 
 
 Reapers and mowers, 
 
 And patent grain sowers; 
 
 And drillers 
 
 And tillers 
 
 And cucumber hillers, 
 t jitf *f a&Qtes?$i{ M : fa-4-feo -ft/lxft ; aail -inne nut;} y;ii 
 
 560 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And harriers ; and had patent rollers and scrapers, 
 
 And took about ten agricultural papers. 
 
 So you can imagine how matters turned out : 
 
 But Brown didn t have not a shadder o doubt 
 
 That Smith didn t know what he was about 
 
 When he said that "the old way to farm was played out." 
 
 But Smith worked ahead, 
 
 And when any one said 
 
 That the old way o workin was better instead 
 
 O his "modern idees," he allus turned red, 
 
 And wanted to know 
 
 What made people so 
 
 Infernally anxious to hear theirselves crow? 
 
 And guessed that he d manage to hoe his own row. 
 
 Brown he come onc t and leant over the fence, 
 
 And told Smith that he couldn t see any sense 
 
 In goin to such a tremendous expense 
 
 Per the sake o such no-account expeeriments : 
 
 "That ll never make corn ! 
 
 As shore s you re born 
 
 It ll come out the leetlest end of the horn !" 
 
 Says Brown, as he pulled off a big roastin -ear 
 
 From a stalk of his own 
 
 That had tribble outgrown 
 
 Smith s poor yaller shoots, and says he, "Looky here ! 
 
 This corn was raised in the old-fashioned way, 
 
 And I rather imagine that this corn ll pay 
 
 Expenses fer raisin it! What do you say?" 
 
 Brown got him then to look over his crop. 
 
 His luck that season had been tip-top ! 
 
 And you may surmise 
 
 Smith opened his eyes 
 
 56l 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And let out a look o the wildest surprise 
 
 When Brown showed him punkins as big as the lies 
 
 He was stuffin him with about offers he s had 
 
 Per his farm : "I don t want to sell very bad," 
 
 He says, but says he, 
 
 "Mr. Smith, you kin see 
 
 Per yourself how matters is standin with me, 
 
 / understand farm-in and I d better stay, 
 
 You know, on my farm ; I m a-makin it pay 
 
 I oughtn t to grumble ! I reckon I ll clear 
 
 Away over four thousand dollars this year." 
 
 And that was the reason, he made it appear, 
 
 Why he didn t care about sellin* his farm, 
 
 And hinted at his havin* done himself harm 
 
 In sellin the other, and wanted to know 
 
 If Smith wouldn t sell back ag in to him. So 
 
 Smith took the bait, and says he, "Mr. Brown, 
 
 I wouldn t sell out, but we might swap aroun 
 
 How ll you trade your place fer mine?" 
 
 (Purty sharp way o comin the shine 
 
 Over Smith! Wasn t it?) Well, sir, this Brown 
 
 Played out his hand and brought Smithy down 
 
 Traded with him an , workin it cute, 
 
 Raked in two thousand dollars to boot 
 
 As slick as a whistle, an that wasn t all, 
 
 He managed to trade back ag in the next fall, 
 
 And the next and the next as long as Smith stayed 
 
 He reaped with his harvests an annual trade. 
 
 Why, I reckon that Brown must a easily made 
 
 On an average nearly two thousand a year 
 
 Together he made over seven thousand clear. 
 
 562 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 i ill Mr. Smith found he was losin his health 
 In as big a proportion, almost, as his wealth ; 
 So at last he concluded to move back to town, 
 And sold back his farm to this same Mr. Brown 
 At very low figgers, by gittin it down. 
 Further n this I have nothin* to say 
 Than merely advisin the Smiths fer to stay 
 In their grocery stores in flourishin* towns 
 And leave agriculture alone and the Browns. 
 
 260 Tivo Sonnets to tJie June-Bug 
 
 YOU make me jes a little nervouser 
 Than any dog-gone bug I ever see ! 
 
 And you know night s the time to pester me 
 When any tetch at all 11 rub the fur 
 Of all my patience back ards ! You re the myrrh 
 
 And ruburb of my life ! A bumblebee 
 
 Cain t hold a candle to you ; and a he 
 Bald hornet, with a laminated spur 
 In his hip-pocket, daresent even cheep 
 
 When you re around ! And, dern ye ! you have 
 
 made 
 Me lose whole ricks and stacks and piles of sleep, 
 
 And many of a livelong night I ve laid 
 And never shut an eye, hearin you keep 
 
 Up that eternal buzzin serenade ! 
 
 563 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 ii 
 
 And I ve got up and lit the lamp, and clum 
 
 On cheers and trunks and wash-stands and bureaus, 
 
 And all such dangerous articles as those, 
 And biffed at you with brooms, and never come 
 In two feet of you, maybe skeered you some, 
 
 But what does that amount to when it throws 
 
 A feller out o balance, and his nose 
 Gits barked ag inst the mantel, while you hum 
 Fer joy around the room, and churn your head 
 
 Ag inst the ceilin , and draw back and butt 
 The plasterin loose, and drop behind the bed? 
 
 Where never human-bein ever putt 
 Harm s hand on you, er ever truthful said 
 
 He d choke yer dern infernal wizzen shut! 
 
 261 My First Womern 
 
 I BURIED my first womern 
 In the spring ; and in the fall 
 I was married to my second, 
 
 And hain t settled yit at all ! 
 Fer I m allus thinkin thinkin 
 
 Of the first one s peaceful ways, 
 A-bilin soap and singin 
 Of the Lord s amazin grace. 
 
 564 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And I m thinkin of her, constants 
 
 Dyin carpet chain and stuff, 
 And a-makin up rag carpets, 
 
 When the floor was good enough 
 And I mind her he p a-feedin , 
 
 And I riccollect her now 
 A-drappin corn, and keepin 
 
 Clos t behind me and the plow ! 
 
 And I m allus thinkin of her 
 
 Reddin up around the house ; 
 Er cookin f er the farm-hands ; 
 
 Er a-drivin up the cows. 
 And there she lays out yonder 
 
 By the lower medder fence, 
 Where the cows was barely grazir 
 
 And they re usin ever sence. 
 
 And when I look acrost there 
 
 Say it s when the clover s ripe, 
 And I m settin , in the evenin , 
 
 On the porch here, with my pipe 
 And the other n hollers "Henry !"- 
 
 W y they ain t no sadder thing 
 Than to think of my first women:. 
 
 And her funeral last spring 
 Was a year ago 
 
 565 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 262 Our Old Friend Nevcrfail 
 
 OIT S good to ketch a relative at s richer and don t run 
 When you holler out to hold up, and ll joke and have 
 
 his fun ; 
 It s good to hear a man called bad and then find out he s 
 
 not, 
 
 Er strike some chap they call lukewarm at s really red-hot ; 
 It s good to know the Devil s painted jes a leetle black, 
 And it s good to have most anybody pat you on the back ; 
 But jes the best thing in the world s our old friend 
 
 Neverfail, 
 
 When he wags yer hand as honest as an old dog wags his 
 tail! 
 
 I like to strike the man I owe the same time I can pay, 
 
 And take back things I ve borried, and su prise folks that- 
 away ; 
 
 I like to find out that the man I voted fer last fall, 
 
 That didn i; git elected, was a scoundrel after all ; 
 
 I like the man that likes the pore and he ps em when lie 
 can; 
 
 I like to meet a ragged tramp at s still a gentleman ; 
 
 But most I like with you, my boy our old friend Never 
 fail, 
 
 When he wags yer hand as honest as an old dog wags his 
 tail! 
 
 566 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 263 To "The J. IV. R. Literary 
 Club" 
 
 WELL, it s enough to turn his head to have a feller s 
 name 
 Swiped with a Literary Club ! But you re the ones to 
 
 blame ! 
 
 I call the World to witness that I never aggcd ye to it 
 By ever writin Classic-like because I couldn t do it. 
 I never run to "Hellicon," ner writ about "Per-nas-sus," 
 Ner never tried to rack er ride around on old "P-gassus" ! 
 When "Tuneful NineS" has cross d my lines, the ink ud 
 
 blot and blur it, 
 And pen ud jest putt back fer home, and take the short- 
 
 way f er it ! 
 
 And so, as I m a-sayin , when you name your LITERARY 
 In honor o this name o mine, it s railly nessessary 
 Whilse I m a-thankin you and all to warn you, ef you 
 
 do it, 
 I ll haf to jine the thing myse f fore I can live up to it! 
 
 3no "n\ irwd ot 
 264 Old Indiany 
 
 FRAGMENT 
 
 INTENDED FOR A DINNER OF THE INDIANA SOCIETY 
 OF CHICAGO 
 
 OLD Indiany, course we know 
 Is first, and best, and most, also, 
 Of all the States whole forty- four : 
 She s first in ever thing, that s shore ! 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And best in ever way as yet 
 
 Made known to man ; and you kin bet 
 
 She s most, because she won t confess 
 
 She ever was, or will be, less! 
 
 And yet, f er all her proud array 
 
 Of sons, how many gits away ! 
 
 No doubt about her bein great 
 
 But, fellers, she s a leaky State ! 
 
 And them that boasts the most about 
 
 Her, them s the ones that s dribbled out 
 
 Law ! jes to think of all you boys 
 
 Way over here in Illinoise 
 
 A-celebratin , like ye air, 
 
 Old Indiany, way back there 
 
 In the dark ages, so to speak, 
 
 A-prayin for ye once a week 
 
 And wonderin what s a-keepin you 
 
 From comin , like you ort to do. 
 
 You re all a-lookin well, and like 
 
 You wasn t "sidin up the pike," 
 
 As the tramp-shoemaker said 
 
 When "he sacked the boss and shed 
 
 The blame town, to hunt fer one 
 
 Where they didn t work fer fun !" 
 
 Lookin extry well, I d say, 
 
 Your old home so fur away. 
 
 Maybe, though, like the old jour., 
 
 Fun ain t all yer workin fer. 
 
 So you ve found a job that pays 
 
 Better than in them old days 
 
 You was on The Weekly Press, 
 
 Heppin run things, more er less ; 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 Er a-learnin telegraph- 
 Operatin , with a half- 
 Notion of the tinner s trade, 
 Er the dusty man s that laid 
 Out designs on marble and 
 Hacked out little lambs by hand, 
 And chewed fine-cut as he wrought, 
 "Shapin from his bitter thought" 
 Some squshed mutterings to say, 
 "Yes, hard work, and porer pay !" 
 Er you d kind o thought the far- 
 Gazin cuss that owned a car 
 And took pictures in it, had 
 Jes* the snap you wanted bad ! 
 And you even wondered why 
 He kep foolin with his sky- 
 Light the same on shiny days 
 As when rainin . (T leaked always.) 
 Wondered what strange things was hid 
 In there when he shet the door 
 And smelt like a burnt drug store 
 Next some orchard-trees, i swan ! 
 With whole roasted apples on! 
 That s why Ade is, here of late, 
 Buyin in the dear old State, 
 So s to cut it up in plots 
 Of both town and country lots. 
 
 boIttEw i-rtaoot Mo L>. f) no .v/oo fbliM 
 \i I iV// rt.? j0rn* miri bsri ?(}fmjrn srfi 9>!LJ 
 
 569 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 5 Abe Martin 
 
 A~3E MARTIN ! dad-burn his old picture ! 
 P tends he s a Brown County fixture 
 A kind of a comical mixture 
 
 Of hoss-sense and no sense at all ! 
 His mouth, like his pipe, s allus goin , 
 And his thoughts, like his whiskers, is flowing 
 And what he don t know ain t wuth knowin 
 From Genesis clean to baseball ! 
 
 The artist, Kin Hubbard, s so keerless 
 He draws Abe most eyeless and earless, 
 But he s never yet pictured him cheerless 
 
 Er with fun at he tries to conceal, 
 Whuther on to the fence er clean over 
 A-rootin up ragweed er clover, 
 Skeered stiff at some "Rambler" er "Rover" 
 
 Er newfangled zutomobeel! 
 
 It s a purty steep climate old Brown s in ; 
 And the rains there his ducks nearly drowns in 
 The old man hisse f wades his rounds in 
 
 As ca m and serene, mighty nigh, 
 As the old handsaw-hawg, er the mottled 
 Milch cow, er the old rooster wattled 
 Like the mumps had him most so well throttled 
 
 That it was a pleasure to die. 
 
 570 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 But best of em all s the fool-breaks at 
 Abe don t see at all, and yit makes at 
 Both me and you lays back and shakes at 
 
 His comic, miraculous cracks 
 Which makes him clean back of the power 
 Of genius itse f in its flower 
 This Notable Man of the Hour, 
 
 Abe Martin, The Joker on Facts. 
 
 266 My Conscience 
 
 OMETIMES my Conscience says, says he, 
 ^-^ "Don t you know me?" 
 
 And I, says I, skeered through and through, 
 
 "Of course I do. 
 
 You air a nice chap euer way, 
 
 I m here to say ! 
 
 You make me cry you make me pray, 
 
 And all them good things thataway 
 
 That is, at night. Where do you stay 
 
 Durin the day?" 
 
 And then my Conscience says, onc t more, 
 
 "You know me shore?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," says I, a-trimblin faint, 
 
 "You re jes a saint! 
 
 Your ways is all so holy-right, 
 
 1 love you better ever night 
 
 You come around, tel plum daylight, 
 When you air out o sight!" 
 
 571 
 
THE HOOSIER BOOK 
 
 And then my Conscience sort o grits 
 
 His teeth, and spits 
 
 On his two hands and grabs, of course, 
 
 Some old remorse, 
 
 And beats me with the big butt-end 
 
 O that thing tel my clostest friend 
 
 Ud hardly know me. "Now," says he, 
 
 "Be keerful as you d orto be 
 
 And allus think o me !" 
 
 267 "A Happy Dream" 
 
 WRITTEN JUNE 26, 1916 
 
 AS fair as summer just begun, 
 Come Cornelia Allison 
 With a lovely poem made for me 
 Lovely as a poem can be. 
 "O how wondrous !" I exclaim. 
 "Poem in theme and poem in name 
 What a triumph you have won, 
 O Cornelia Allison ! 
 
 ;b fnirffr !->j -.bnuuifi srrrco u 
 "flir^is o Juo TJ UOY nos 
 
 572 
 
INDEXES 
 
 INDEX OF TITLES 
 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 
 
23JT1T HO 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 NUMBER 
 
 ABE MARTIN ,?.: , . "HavrAM:.YXA < fcM 265 
 
 ABSENCE OF LITTLE WESLEY, THE . "saaY/ aoC . 197 
 
 ALMOST BEYOND ENDURANCE . . iiaaaxci. V> . 162 
 
 ARMAZINDY 
 
 As MY UNCLE UST TO SAY a#KI CIHA wH . n7 
 
 AT AUNTY S HOUSE . ji^.aHT ^o WQ war | 103 
 
 AT "THE LITERARY" . 198 
 
 BACK FROM TOWN . . a T ^ f -^. ? ^ . 217 
 
 BEAR FAMILY, A - 242 
 
 BEAR STORY, THE . . . H - !/! . dlll i I 255 
 
 BEE-BAG, THE .... D . 213 
 
 BILLY AND His DRUM . . . 231 
 
 BILLY GOODIN . . -99 
 
 BILLY MILLER S CIRCUS SHOW . . 167 
 "BLUE-MONDAY" AT THE SHOE SHOP . wd#fl 
 
 BOY LIVES ON OUR FARM, THE . . 107 
 BOYS CANDIDATE, THE . . . . . g , 
 BOY S MOTHER, A 3 g TJf , 
 
 BOYS OF THE OLD GLEE CLUB, THE .... 248 
 BUB SAYS . ^ . 3 -Aw>uw ? *- )T 
 
 BUD S FAIRY TALE . . (x3ir.:t/f r l aWHiHV/ 254 
 
 BUMBLEBEE, THE . . .jg/i-aAfK &iaiO.sHT 90 
 
 BY ANY OTHER NAME . . . .. g;ia8 ?. 123 
 
 <;] . A .yjiMAH-aaiS SHT HO WH^ 
 
 CANARY AT THE FARM, A . . . . THO*/! -: A. a-sIS 
 
 CASSANDER .... KT ..awaau.i 1^4 
 CHILD-WORLD, THE . . . ^nT .,vr^//I 
 
 CHRISTMAS AFTERTHOUGHT . mvaMosavio.I T 75 
 
 CHRISTMAS MEMORY, A ... .z/ra. VKTj . 235 
 
 CLIMATIC SORCERY >:;wji> 239 
 
 CLOVER, THE . ^nT ,.i>}-. 7/ :m? 
 
 577 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 NUMBER 
 
 "COMPANY MANNERS" . . . HJTSI/ . 247 
 
 "CooN-DoG WESS" .. .HtfT .Y^jaa ^ aJvrU -v-> 5 . 18 
 CUORED o SKEERIN . -. *:>/ /.r-rjjivr!:! yvioY:j;J ir. 219 
 
 VQ7 
 
 DAWN, NOON AND DEWFALL ..... 
 DECORATION DAY ON THE PLACE 
 DEFECTIVE SANTA CLAUS, A 
 
 Doc SIFERS 
 
 DOODLE-BUGS S CHARM, THE . . y %?l /p V( 
 DOS T o BLUES, A . . . . . Yjn 
 DOWN AROUND THE RIVER . . . , ?f n< ^,. 
 DOWN ON WRIGGLE CRICK .... HH -j; 
 DOWN TO THE CAPITAL . . ^ ^Q. PI n . r 
 
 DREAM-MARCH v . 
 
 DUBIOUS "OLD KRISS," A . ..,.% ^v>5ir>?.V-f: 
 
 ELMER BROWN . . ."^ " ^" .. " . - v J . 223 
 
 ERASMUS WILSON . . . " " . \ . 15 
 
 EXTREMES . . . . . . . / . 226 
 
 EZRA HOUSE . ^ .24 
 
 FALL-CRICK VIEW OF THE EARTHQUAKE, A . v . 172 
 
 FARMER WHIPPLE BACHELOR . . ^ V T Y .- 7! . 115 
 
 FEEL IN THE CHRIS MAS-AIR, A . \ ] " l - , i;n . 153 
 
 FESSLER S BEES . . . . .y- /.X^uinl) < 205 
 
 FEW OF THE BIRD-FAMILY, A 142 
 
 FIRE AT NIGHT . . -. >\ .j/H/. K-iiiT T.\ m \f\ 
 
 FIRST BLUEBIRD, THE : . 28 
 
 FISHING PARTY, THE . . . mT .CJM<V m 195 
 
 FOLKS AT LONESOMEVILLE THDUOHTaHT^A _>:/ ^ J4Q 
 
 FOOL-YOUNGENS . . .. A. ,YOM.lM ?./ ^ 230 
 
 FULL HARVEST, A . . vaaDHoS : < jjg 
 
 FUNNIEST THING IN THE WORLD, THE . A \ L ^ -. 87 
 
 5/8 
 
INDL:X OF TITLES 
 
 GINOINE AR-TICKLE, THE . ; -J 
 COIN TO THE FAIR . . -. 
 GOLDIE GOODWIN -. . . 
 GOOD-BY ER HOWDY-DO . , 
 GOOD, OLD-FASHIONED PEOPLE, THE 
 GRAMPA S CHOICE . . . 
 GRANDFATHER SQUEERS . 
 GRANNY . . . . 
 GRIGGSBY S STATION . -. 
 GUINEY-PIGS 
 GUSTATORY ACHIEVEMENT, A 
 
 HAPPY DREAM, A . . 
 HAPPY LITTLE CRIPPLE, THE 
 HER POET-BROTHER . . 
 HIRED MAN S DOG-STORY, THE 
 
 NUMBER 
 
 HToM. SDA^ o . 257 
 
 . -. .. w . 204 
 
 -r . 187 
 
 i; I ;jr . 168 
 
 I JKJ . 234 
 
 . ... THQI T /! . 181 
 
 <r*" /TiMLJ JAJJT: . 85 
 
 . X ait 4 YJJ J a . 47 
 . . .. 33 pi Top 2*4$ 
 83 
 
 . n.Uivi ;*AiQ 3 . 245 
 
 . auT . 267 
 
 . . .74 
 
 QXA x.aa . 177 
 
 :iHj ,H3jJi . 176 
 
 HIRED MAN S FAITH IN CHILDREN, THE . . . 159 
 
 His MOTHER S WAY ....... 112 
 
 His PA S ROMANCE ..... jJiM . 161 
 
 HOME AGAIN ..... .\w\ Ki.ia: . 220 
 
 "HOMEAG IN" ........ 151 
 
 HOME-FOLKS . . . 3HT ,Q3-<r/i^-2-jijT . 144 
 HOME-MADE FAIRY TALE, A <*/. A a^W a/.MT.siHH . 38 
 HOODOO, THE . . 3* AM pr aa^ J 3Hrcl^ ? . 124 
 HOOSIER CALENDAR, A WJoX aajtrxaaijU /^, . 175 
 HOOSIER SPRING-POETRY <iaAjQ xHgl, ra^aa-iH^ . 191 
 Hoss, THE ...... 3n . 22 
 
 "How DTD You REST, LAST NIGHT?" . g/J. viia io . 134 
 How IT HAPPENED . . aooj J^HT UXA 4:>iCI 3JTiiS 
 How JOHN QUIT THE FARM sigjD30JTiJ-pwT-jaj . Ill 
 HYMB OF FAITH, A . . g.iTM 2yjHO .a gT^HoX 3^TT^ 
 
 Q\I . . A ,8W3lV 8 f YoS 3MAJ 3JTTlJ 
 
 579 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 NUMBER 
 
 I GOT TO FACE MOTHER TO-DAY - ;H T , j jx jir-^A 1^8 
 
 IDIOT, AN ...... aiA ^ 3HT . 158 
 
 IMPETUOUS RESOLVE, AN . . . .*uwcixx 97 
 
 IMPROMPTU FAIRY-TALE, AN . . -awnll KA - 221 
 
 IN FERVENT PRAISE OF PICNICS . Tc3;ioi.H /. "-<]. 238 
 
 IN THE NIGHT ..... Dions ?;, 76 
 
 INTELLECTUAL LIMITATIONS . gfluautjS SMIT. 227 
 
 IRY AND BILLY AND Jo . . . .. .. .121 
 
 IT S GOT TO BE ..... /.OJTAT& g 190 
 
 JACK THE GIANT KILLER . A. /r.-t. uovH.fcHjA.yfl . 114 
 
 JAP MILLER ........ 113 
 
 JAYBIRD, THE ..... A.,MA/!iO 241 
 
 J IM ..... snT ,ajTitjO ;-MTTI.. 51 
 
 JOHN ALDEN AND PERCILLY . . -^HTOHE-T . 128 
 
 JOLLY MILLER, THE . . ,,T .YaT-;>wG f < YL. . 102 
 
 JONEY .,*; , JWT ,X.-i>HIJlD /J HTU. I ViAl - 46 
 
 F ,-, : . -y/.V/ g asuroM arTf 
 
 KINGRY S MILL ..... SDX/JAOH ; . 45 
 
 KNEE-DEEP IN JUNE ..... v.it-^j . 41 
 
 LAND OF THUS-AND-SO, THE . . . gun . 84 
 
 "LAST CHRISTMAS WAS A YEAR AGO" cMt-. l aa/, . 203 
 
 LIKE His MOTHER USED TO MAKE . . ^wT . 49 
 
 LINES TO AN UNSETTLED YOUNG MAN ,H/,n>!HJA3 258 
 
 LINES TO PERFESSER JOHN CLARK RIDPATH -:\m?< . 36 
 
 LISPER, THE ....... 31; . 163 
 
 LITTLE COUSIN JASPER rjioiX.T/-.,L ,-\^-M :.;.)Y a . 212 
 
 LITTLE DICK AND THE CLOCK . . a^s TiAH . 229 
 
 LlTTLE-GlRL-TwO-LlTTLE-GlRLS . \ 7 L 3IIT .TI jQ. Vl . 244 
 
 LITTLE JOHNTS S CHRIS MUS . . A .,H ri/.H . 88 
 
 LITTLE LAME BOY S VIEWS, A ..... 179 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 LITTLE MANDY S CHRISTMAS-TREE 
 LITTLE MOCK-MAN, THE . 
 LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE . 
 LITTLE TINY KICKSHAW, THE . 
 LITTLE TOWN o TAILHOLT, THE 
 LIZABUTH-ANN ON BAKIN -DAY 
 LIZ-TOWN HUMORIST, A . . 
 
 MAN BY THE NAME OF BOLUS, A >. 
 MAN IN THE MOON, THE . mT "* 
 MARTHY ELLEN . . . :1 ^ 
 
 MAX AND JIM .... 
 MAYMIE S STORY OF RED RIDING-HOOD 
 ME AND MARY .... 
 MISTER HOP-TOAD . . 
 
 MONGST THE HlLLS o SOMERSET //-. 
 
 MORTUL PRAYER, A . 
 "MOTHER" .... 
 MULBERRY TREE, THE . 
 MUSKINGUM VALLEY, THE 
 MY CONSCIENCE . . 
 MY DANCIN -DAYS Is OVER 
 MY FIDDLE . . 
 MY FIRST WOMERN . ^ . 
 MY HENRY . . . 
 MY PHILOSOFY . . .:--. >J 
 
 MY RUTHERS . . f-i^HA 
 
 "MYLO JONES S WIFE" . 
 
 NAME Us No NAMES No MORE 
 NAUGHTY CLAUDE . . 
 NEVER TALK BACK .. 
 
 NUMBER 
 Y 86 
 
 * 4 8 
 gr . 56 
 ..60 
 .,< . 55 
 J a . 184 
 
 ^QiHH/3-cL* 
 xaufT YZ^AJU) cuQ 
 anT ,wc*o . 218 
 3T 
 
 &&* - 63 
 
 J ^VH . 253 
 
 17 
 
 145 
 
 -.V 214 
 
 .Y3^ T j /- &* . 185 
 
 . 3HO . 12 
 
 >-<tf^ 133 
 
 3J . 266 
 
 . .aj?T ,<ji^ . 150 
 
 3T W W 14 
 .YHA;;HU;(O. ^ . 261 
 .ijoi.i;[(J 0x4 a.irjjH . 136 
 
 fQ. HTA^Q 
 
 16 
 
 194 
 
 95 
 
 169 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 NUMBER 
 
 NEW YEAR S TIME AT WILLARDS S, A . -j .;//,!//}/ $2 
 
 NOBLE OLD ELM, THE . .. 3H ? //^M^soM 232 
 
 NOTHIN TO SAY . . .. :[I>! .KA TKAHI*( - 196 
 
 n . 3HT ,WAH3ajI>I YXlT SJTTlJ 
 
 OLD BAND, THE ,. " ,. 3. H T .CJOHJIA YM. 202 
 
 "OLD BOB WHITE" . ^a-SKix/a wo-w - 23 6 
 OLD-FASHIONED ROSES . . ,. A fraiaouuH* v.woT-x^S 
 
 OLD GRANNY DUSK 166 
 
 OLD HAYMOW, THE . . g-j^I -*> SMA^ SHT 82 
 
 OLD HOME BY THE MILL, THE . , H T ,*ot>M airr 71 
 
 OLD HOME-FOLKS, THE . . .. .Y.AIM.I v 252 
 
 OLD INDIANY . MI^ a 264 
 
 OLD JOHN CLEVENGER ON BUCKEYES . o ^JiorB g 1 2 ^ 
 
 OLD JOHN HENRY .. . . . .. Y ^/i 2 *5 
 
 OLD MAN AND JIM, THE . . . aM>T-K*H 2 ^ 
 
 OLD MAN WHISKERY-\VHEE-KUM-\VHEEZE 3HT . 243 
 
 OLD MAN S MEMORY, AN . . .A ?>iiVA c [ ^5 
 
 OLD MAN S NURSERY RHYME . . . "^H 80 
 
 OLD OCTOBER .... . WI T ^^T- Y 50 
 
 OLD PLAYED-OUT SONG, A ; <HT ,Y uj>.Y MJ.J 17 
 
 OLD SWIMMIN -HOLE, THE . . <A >Y^#:/.^ v?4 
 
 OLD TRAMP, THE . . tvO *I 8YAa-V,i:.! . 93 
 
 OLD WINTERS ON THE FARM . . . , a .., . 126 
 ON ANY ORDENARY MAN IN A HIGH STATE OF 
 
 LAUGHTURE AND DELIGHT . . . J/K; . 29 
 
 ON THE BANKS o DEER CRICK . ... YTO?OJ HO 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF LITTLE MAHALA ASHCRAFT . . 11 
 
 OUR BETSY .... V->!7A 8*2:i*o1 . 164 
 
 OUR HIRED GIRL ""?" 109 
 
 OUR OLD FRIEND NEVERFAIL j}/ > /l.z3if/,Yi. <M z 262 
 
 OUR QUEER OLD WORLD .. .. . a-jAiD YTIK 155 
 
 ^M . - . . . JJOAff iiJAT HiV^^ 
 
 582 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 PAP S OLD SAYIN . . . au->wKMeD 
 
 PARENT REPRIMANDED, A . . . 3M H-T/ 
 
 PENALTY OF GENIUS, THE . . . !H T t ajiH3 
 
 PEN-PICTUR OF A CERT IN FRIWOLUS OLD MAN, A . 
 
 PERVERSITY . ^HT ^1 03 a /-.U aJD*iU ttui 
 
 PET COON, THE .... a T ,HH - 
 
 POEMS HERE AT HOME, THE . . /_ .y/.Q a 
 
 NUMBER 
 
 34 
 
 246 
 
 233 
 
 25 
 193 
 94 
 
 "PREACHER S BOY, THE" . %a T Kf7/ 
 PRIOR TO Miss BELLE S APPEARANCE . 
 PROSPECTIVE GLIMPSE, A 
 
 RABBIT . 
 
 RAGGEDY MAN, THE . . . / 
 RAGGEDY MAN ON CHILDREN, THE . 
 RAMBO-TREE, THE . . > 
 REGARDIN TERRY-HUT . . . 
 RHYMES OF IRONQUILL, THE . . 
 RIGHT HERE AT HOME F> R ^ 3 
 "RINGWORM FRANK" . ? .^^g? 81 ? : 
 RIVALS ; OR THE SHOWMAN S RUSE, THE 
 ROMANCIN . . . *V aTA . J 
 ROSSVILLE LECTUR COURSE, THE | ^ 
 RuBXivXT OF Doc SIFERS l .* M ^ u * . u 
 RUNAWAY BOY, THE . J * y ^- H: 
 
 ait- 96 
 
 . g] 100 
 
 92 
 
 > 180 
 * 104 
 183 
 
 . 
 * " J 
 
 j 22S 
 
 e3H0 ^ K> 
 
 r. 
 
 . 156 
 . 119 
 138 
 
 . 
 
 81 
 
 a ; lCl . 
 -I a] 
 
 SCHOOLBOY S FAVORITE, THE 
 
 SCOTTY 
 
 SESSION WITH UNCLE SIDNEY, A 
 SHE "DISPLAINS" IT . . 
 SISTER JONES S CONFESSION 
 SMITTEN PURIST, THE . 
 SOME CHRISTMAS YOUNGSTERS . 
 
 130 
 
 250 
 
 TluQ .g xoaiii . 147 
 
 YHTSTJOD .or/I - 216 
 
 .. 3 HX ,MOOJ. - 237 
 
 3^1 T .aoQ^K^ . 101 
 . .. **3^ -wia,-120 
 
 -Y 157 
 
 . 174 
 
 SOME SCATTERING REMARKS OF BUB S 
 
 129 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 NUMBER 
 
 SOMEP N COMMON-LIKE . " * " . viYAci a. . 59 
 SPIRITS AT HOME . . * A .na<iKAMiM i:-.5J . 173 
 SPOILED CHILD, THE . . > *"*T -.aui^aO ;i<> . 210 
 SQUIRE HAWKINS S STORY . *"% m TysD .4 10 YJI . 208 
 SQUIRT-GUN UNCLE MAKED ME, THE . . : ; . 78 
 STEPMOTHER, THE .... .61 
 
 SUMMER S DAY, A . . 3i T $w *. 3#?.H suaofc 
 SUMMER-TIME AND WINTER-TIME "~wT ,1408 ft. na.h . 149 
 SYMPTOMS . . 3 J;AHAaj4A ?-3Jja3 i2iJ^ . 188 
 
 S : A ^HLOjH aviT03^3O^I 
 
 TALE OF THE AIRLY DAYS, A 19 
 
 THAT-AIR YOUNG-UN . . * T *V ^ 
 
 THEM FLOWERS . .^p- %,- UH^ -"- o -^/M ^^ 
 
 "THEM OLD CHEERY WORDS" 7 3H T 3 3fl 16 
 
 THINKIN BACK . . . ^H-yHJiaT i 182 
 
 THIS MAN JONES . . ., T . T , r . T . 65 
 THOMAS THE PRETENDER . . MO H T/ -ii] 
 THOUGHTS FER THE DISCURAGED FARMER . 3 . v., T a* 
 
 THOUGHTS ON A PORE JOKE ....,.. . 1T o, v ^6 
 
 THOUGHTS ON THE LATE WAR 201 
 
 THREE JOLLY HUNTERS, THE r v- i O LJT ^^ 
 
 To MY OLD FRIEND, WILLIAM LEACH MAN r . . 13 
 
 To "THE J. W. R. LITERARY CLUB" ^ ycO* v 263 
 
 To "UNCLE REMUS" . . . ". "* : / "r . 152 
 
 TOM JOHNSON S QUIT . sjrT ,3ri. . 70 
 
 TOWN AND COUNTRY 30 
 
 TOY-BALLOON, THE . . ^arS.^j^JJ nrjvr . 165 
 
 TOY PENNY-DOG, THE . .. .. T! V/.iA^a: . 143 
 
 "TRADIN JOE" . . . Kois^dKuO ?/aa,no . 206 
 
 TRAIN-MISSER, THE . . . 3." T ,T?.I . 48 
 TREE-TOAD, THE . . laayao /iuoY a/-.MT2jO.ak63 
 
 TRULY MARVELOUS, THE JH !;! ^HA^aSl ^i> . 209 
 584 
 
INDEX OP TITLES 
 
 NUMBER 
 
 TWINS, THE 
 
 Two SONNETS TO THE JUNE-BUG .... 260 
 
 UNCLE MART S POEM 256 
 
 UNCLE SIDNEY . . 72 
 
 UNCLE SIDNEY S LOGIC 146 
 
 UNCLE WILLIAM S PICTURE . . 207 
 
 UP AND DOWN OLD BRANDYWINE . . . .135 
 Us FARMERS IN THE COUNTRY . 
 
 WAITIN PER THE CAT TO DIE . . 73 
 
 WANT TO BE WHUR MOTHER Is .62 
 
 WAY IT Wuz, THE 69 
 
 WET-WEATHER TALK .... 
 
 WHAT CHRIS MAS FETCHED THE WIGGINSES . . 125 
 WHAT LITTLE SAUL GOT, CHRISTMAS . . . 186 
 WHAT SMITH KNEW ABOUT FARMING . . . 259 
 WHATEVER THE WEATHER MAY BE . . .68 
 
 WHEN LIDE MARRIED HIM 137 
 
 WHEN OUR BABY DIED 77 
 
 WHEN THE FROST Is ON THE PUNKTN ... 10 
 WHEN THE GREEN GITS BACK IN THE TREES . . 66 
 WHEN THE HEARSE COMES BACK .... 42 
 WHEN THE WORLD BU STS THROUGH . . .91 
 
 WHEN WE FIRST PLAYED "SHOW" .... 224 
 WHO SANTY CLAUS Wuz ...... 64 
 
 WORTERMELON TlME 9 
 
 WRITIN BACK TO THE HOME-FOLKS .... 132 
 YOUTHFUL PATRIOT, THE .139 
 
 585 
 
3I JV. J 
 
 -i r-i-/- V 
 
 DIOoJ 
 
 or TA 3HT Ji;ii KITEA. 
 
 UUV/ 33 OT TvTA 
 
 WOII 5" 
 
 Tltt?, TATlV/ 
 
 Y8 .8 srjO 
 
 T80JI T I 3HT 
 /: I^MO 3ITT 
 
 3MlT ^O. 
 
 3HT OT i?3 
 
 anT .TOIHTA*! 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 

 i iO X:i(..iKJ. 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 Lines thus designated * are not the first lines of individual 
 poems but of parts of longer poems 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Child-World, yet a wondrous world no less . . 505 
 
 A little boy once played so loud -rtl^J bw i.B9% ^ . 431 
 
 A man by the name of Bolus (all at we ll ever know 420 
 
 A old Tramp slep in our stable wunst > \u :tetd I: . 170 
 
 A passet o boys last night tyjoi{ -juo uj ormp : . 135 
 
 A thing at s bout as tryin as a healthy man kin meet 81 
 
 Abe Martin ! dad-burn his old picture -J Q* u ^d "- . 570 
 
 After a thoughtful, almost painful pause . iwp* . 144 
 
 All at I ever want to be . o^Iliv^oa jfi 97^,1 . 298 
 
 All my feelin s in the Spring ..... 320 
 
 Allus when our Pa he s away . ~^l J^SSuJ o& . 470 
 
 Armazindy; fambily name ^uorf.tiro qt **mv> . . 241 
 
 As fair as summer just begun Vfy! to^fm^ . vll tfl . 572 
 
 As it s give me to perceive . fi/3.iulw. ai gs " . 59 
 
 At Billy Miller s Circus-Show ..... 317 
 
 Awf lest boy in this-here town . rf TpQoIr^^tl* . 427 
 18 f . . "loo* t b*H" 
 
 *Babe she s so always --^ .vii^-S^y? <n\q & *&\ . 326 
 
 Bleak January ! Cold as fate . vtz^id Jf&i&B . 328 
 
 Bud, come here to your uncle a spell . ^>i^ t an^p:> . 73 
 
 "Cassander ! O Cassander !" her mother s voice seems 
 
 cle r . . . . ": - fiavi ^4 J*n uo^ L. . 285 
 
 Cause Herbert Graham s a only child HIiW bi-uo . 409 
 
 Childern take em as they run . -^ vq n ^[ ^y1^jM . 345 
 
 Come listen, good people, while a story I do tell . 51 
 
 "Coon-dog Wess" he allus went orj X !y P* ^"P S" . 34 
 
 3cf oi bn^l q t nob -*$n .t ftis I 
 
 Dawn, noon and dewfall ! Bluebird and robin . . 211 
 
 Dogs, I contend, is jes about . \VnuiHT ^^y*^ . 332 
 
 589 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Elsie Mingus lisps, she does ! 1) . 76 .* jsns gb *"; * ^ ^i. 311 
 
 r cq to Inrt RtflfM-i 
 
 Fer any boy at s little as me ikuov/ G 13 Cvbho.W . 270 
 
 Fer forty year and better you have been a friend to me 22 
 
 Fire! Fire! Ring and ring -^ufoH to amen >;( < / 321 
 
 First and best of earthly joys . r .m qt??. qi;ji . 343 
 
 First she come to our house j^I-gi n .isj;;I avoJ > H9 
 
 First the teacher called the roll ni ?s> JwoJ siJr. - 219 
 
 Folks has be n to town, and Sahry sT.rj. -!.*!>-- -! ;!} . 83 
 
 Folks in town, I reckon, thinks : >fi ^ R ,in4ti!v;xj<i 365 
 
 Folks up here at Rossville got up a Lectur Course . 63 
 
 Giunts is the biggest mens they air . c f lo,Mo w 409 
 
 Granny s come to our house ->niBa .vfrdri^}- -->\-{) 91 
 
 Guess at Billy hain t got back.ugod lac/t T^nrrrw :, 238 
 
 Guiney-pigs is awful cute . v/ko-iiK? ot.yiir /i 153 
 
 Had a harelip Joney had iv/t ^Tjif-^iif* t -;*>il 89 
 
 "Had, too!" 181 
 
 He was jes* a plain, ever -day, all-round kind of jour. 97 
 
 He s jes a great, big, awk ard, hulkin . n&in . 258 
 
 Ho! it s come, kids, come sbrro twov: oj ^ T^il -;i 436 
 
 Ho ! the old Snow-Man 552 
 
 Home-folks ! Well, that-air name to me . ) . T >! . 266 
 
 "How did you rest, last night?" .... 253 
 
 "How would Willie like to go . m^rnnQ ;hMrit -.>] 154 
 
 Howdy, Mister Hop-Toad ! Glad to see you out . 267 
 
 I ain t a-goin* to cry no more, no more -">:?y/.y.<. . 310 
 
 I ain t, ner don t p tend to be . . . 1 
 
 I believe all childern s good f[. M! -Jv/ :f>.brTfi a..n . 294 
 
 I be n a-kindo "musin ," as the feller says, and I m . 11.5 
 
 590 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 T be n down to the Capital at Washington, D. C. . 368 
 
 I buried my first womern . f ^--orn.3^ QJ vt^v . 564 
 
 I got no patience with blues at all (>krow nr>ri" -tfii . 65 
 
 F got to face Mother to-day, fer a fact ?io, -aojo?- . 339 
 I got to thinkin of her both her parunts dead and 
 
 gone uia, {fntettf blo.^rft rtf jbsd }irg r>? bt>>$ virii. 7 
 
 I hain t no hand at tellin tales . srwrfi iwtrorjm . 398 
 
 I have jest about decided . fil .lo ^t 1 ^Nrf e . 232 
 
 I kin hump my back and take the rain ^sn rAni^ . . 322 
 I like fun and I like jokes irejn iio.w/rog * . .57 
 
 I rickollect the little tad, back, years and years ago . 172 
 
 I s pose it takes a feller at s be n . t -aknoHiJts . 342 
 
 I tell you what I d ruther do -. t^M -ffi jiwoh.13 . 30 
 
 I thought the deacon liked me, yit . . . . 215 
 "I was born in Indiany," says a stranger, lank and 
 
 slim . . > rf sug f t smAn Jtovt *i rf fe teofl jln . 94 
 
 I was for Union you, ag in* it frae ! . . 374 
 If you don t know Doc Sifers I ll jes* argy, here and 
 
 now fiittv . fo&- . 481 
 
 I m a-feelin ruther sad ^fmvvrmbjg! 3?ort T J *B . 276 
 
 I m bin a-visitun bout a week . c jj)il jum ^nr . 423 
 
 I m gittin old I know . ;c yuo . //. ?rrti?i-tf . 346 
 
 I m not a-workin now . ^i t . - iV - r r . . 351 
 
 I m one o these cur ous kind o chaps <n.I J ru^h . 392 
 
 I m on y thist a idiot . nja-: . . fo h . 293 
 
 I m thist a little cripple boy, an* never goin to grow . 141 
 
 I m twins, I guess, cause my Ma say . \~t\s\ . 457 
 
 In spring, when the green gits back in the trees . 127 
 
 In the golden noon-shine . f 30700 *. >[ rm A 1 . . 273 
 
 In the jolly winters . : firf 2fv^vrn bhov. .srlt n\ ? . 150 
 
 Iry an Billy an Jo } .-<>* If,-, iri lys-v* n/3 .tovt . 216 
 
 It hain t no use to grumble and complane . .n . 49 
 
 59 ^ 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 It was a Jolly Miller lived on the River Dee . . 182 
 
 It s a irrystery to see me a man o fifty-four . . 206 
 
 It s a purty hard world you find, my child :Htxq . 288 
 It s lonesome sorto lonesome, it s a Sund y-day, to 
 
 me b&b 1 Rininr,q i-xL iftotl T>ri }o VrAA\ . 61 
 
 It s mighty good to git back to the old town, shore . 375 
 
 It s the curiousest thing in creation . tf; iutf}.on 1V 32 
 
 I ve allus held till jest of late jhfoob JWOOR <*>[ > 289 
 
 I ve be n thinkin back, of late >n& >hs<l vrrr qrmrrf. 343 
 
 I ve thought a power on men and things . nf;~ ni . 212 
 
 Janey Pettibone s the best a te* lofbt JK *9-.-!fir..ti . 169 
 Jap Miller down at Martinsville s the blamedest feller 
 
 yit . ... }?--/. ,f>m te Jil -.noor^b 3fh it . 203 
 
 Jes* a little bit o feller I remember still roc! . 123 
 
 Jest Frank Reed s his real name though . . 261 
 
 Jest rain and snow! and rain again . --no rnTJ. if . 59 
 bffR- rt Sii ,V-tx *z j[ ll l 2i3ti8 ooCI won>! J nob rroy It 
 
 Las Juty and, I persume . ..... 133 
 
 Las time at Uncle Sidney come {>.K narfjrn /jilo . 167 
 
 *Lrtj^ Chris mus, little Benny . c jujotf wisji-iy-* . 325 
 
 Last Christmas was a j^ear ago v/en>I 1. bu.). n tjji. 377 
 
 Last Thanksgivin -dinner we . vt>n fri.ri. ,-//,-,.; jr^ 458 
 
 Lawzy! don t I rickollect N?j>f ttiQ*i\ : .->. or? t. o . 139 
 
 Lish, you rickollect that-air . joibl . T ;: ?r>U!j . 422 
 
 Little Cousin Jasper, he a rrK ,xo<? al(jqfi343lJ iiI. : . 411 
 
 "Little Haly ! Little Haly !" cheeps the robin in the tree 19 
 
 Little Mandy and her Ma . rg.nwv ocfT.ri :> : i-/4 .^ . 160 
 
 Little Orphant Annie s come to our house to stay . Ill 
 
 LI where in the world my eyes has bin vV<;v/ {i lo i y 93 
 Look so neat an sweet in all yer frills an fancy 
 
 pleatin ^hfifqoVo * .hm; tf.hw&s ot. wi on 1 ? (i- 178 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Ma put my Penny-Dog !j<j>^*j& blwcxD I. zwotoofc a 265 
 
 Max an Jim . . !^r*i ^ t*g<f ribh bixl t< . 152 
 
 Me an Bert an Minnie-Belle . 9f fj j a4tjj js am 4 ^5 
 
 Mongst the Hills o Somerset . ri-Vununiw bio 414 
 
 Most ontimely old man yit . . . q 9 ^ . 54 
 
 Mostly, folks is law-abidin s rficntl rftefbir Ifirf* u< ^7 
 
 My dear old friends It jes beats all , 9 ^j|[ }, j, . 250 
 My fiddle? Well, I kindo keep her handy, don t you 
 
 know .... Jaeil 9ffe gf amis ebr 25 
 
 "My grandfather Squeers," said The Raggedy Man . 156 
 
 My mother she s so good to me 3*- 9^11*03 ,^nc 188 
 
 My old Uncle Sidney he says it s a sign . r 9 Q ; . 350 
 
 "Mylo Jones s wife" was all . .rft.Vabfint ^iVmfo ^0 
 
 : tfia" t>J ffDUffr bfirf ivdrt ius/ti MO 
 
 Never talk back ! sich things is repperhensible . . 319 
 
 Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and John 196 
 
 Noey Bixler ketched him, an fetched him in to me . 171 
 
 Noon-time and June-time, down around the river . 114 
 
 Nothin to say, my daughter! Nothin at all to say 362 
 
 Now, Tudens, you sit on this knee and scuse . 443 
 
 O Big Old Tree so tall an fine i f M .intol* -j 437 
 *O here s a little rhyme for the Spring- or Summer 
 time . . .yBb- t onliBcfig ii 5tiw. t hiiO.btj . 448 
 O it s good to ketch a relative at s richer and don t 
 
 run si$! >U J . . 566 
 
 O, it s many s the scenes which is dear to my mind . 29 
 
 O The Raggedy Man ! He works f er Pa 9 rf j; . 185 
 
 O there were three jolly hunters :!oui?.}-i>[u duo bjsrf 263 
 
 O, Thou that doth all things devise . 3 j ^ a ?a [\ B ^ 12 
 
 O what did the little boy do r, ,JffaivlngJ*q gjrf j, . 262 
 
 "O, what is Life at last," says you . t ji^ j njb ih ;l 557 
 
 593 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Of all the doctors I could cite you to in this- ere town 128 
 
 Oh, if we had a rich boss . . . . rsii] . 352 
 
 Oh! tell me a tale of the airly days . M .Yrs int)( . 39 
 Oh ! the old swimmin -hole ! whare the crick so still 
 
 and deep . . . .Jiv n^rn bio (lam too i?.cd 
 
 Oh ! Thou that veileth from all eyes ffil.-gi-edlo: . 57 
 
 Oh ! what ef little childerns all Jlv-fcbrw-ri hio . 338 
 
 Old Bob White s a funny bird mrf I jteV/V^ . 442 
 
 Old friends allus is the best 418 
 
 Old Granny Dusk, when the sun goes down . .316 
 
 Old Indiany, course we know . >OQQ oa ^ srfe .131 . 567 
 
 Old John Clevenger lets on C* jA.v-jiz/u^ olarrlJ . 42 
 
 Old John s jes made o the commonest stuff ?. atm> . 416 
 
 Old man never had much to say .... 371 
 
 Old Man Whiskery- Whee-Kum- Wheeze . ^L;l< . 456 
 
 Old October s purt nigh gone . inv,i IJo ?:!*;-:.. . 95 
 
 Old wortermelon time is a-comin round again . 14 
 
 On old Brandywine about oU .sfnij-anuj. b.iaar . 86 
 
 On Scursion-days an* Shows an Fairs -.03 . 340 
 
 On the banks o Deer Crick ! There s the place f er me 195 
 
 One time, when we z at Aunty s house . . . 183 
 
 One s the pictur of his Pa .ft. nc fk* (.?..wT.b\ . 233 
 
 Our hired girl, she s Lizabuth Ann . ; Q|;J . . 192 
 
 Our Hired Girl, when it s bakin -day . . . 345 
 
 Owned a pair o skates onc t. Traded jty ot bo<vg . 220 
 
 Pa he bringed me here to stay ^in?o? artf gVnfirrr. 440 
 
 Pa wunst he scold an says to me . , vlr^^A iw 269 
 
 Pap had one old-fashioned sayin .UiH wufi y\wt . 66 
 
 Pap he allus ust to say . . . iftob ifi/ft . 294 
 
 Pap s got his pattent-right, and rich as all creation . 75 
 
 Parunts don t git toys an things rg/;I IE tjHT 4! } . 327 
 
 594 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Parunts knows lots more than us itrto iua}o giH . 432 
 
 Picnics is fun at s purty hard to beat #iaib tedinhu] 449 
 
 Pore-folks lives at Lonsomeville :bnsiqg ?.i ad geoi 262 
 
 Ras Wilson, I respect you, cause o jujrn-^boM. ah . 27 
 
 Right here at home, boys, in old Hoosierdom . . 214 
 
 Said The Raggedy Man, on a hot afternoon -lyruifc . 175 
 
 Say good-by er howdy-do jirO i>n t f . -doll . 318 
 
 Scotty s dead. Of course he is 3(U s v/orrmiH I. . 417 
 
 " Scur ous-like," said the tree-toad . & ?l^d itfnyoU yrl ^ 
 
 Seems like a feller d ort o jes to-day bar// i^rni . 213 
 
 Sence I tuk holt o Gibbses Churn . . e^T . 105 
 Sence little Wesley went, the place seems all so strange 
 
 and still .%mnvl bas.^rftoM hns .lar .rsH. gj; . 363 
 
 Settin round the stove, last night -^touq w/i i aev> . 84 
 
 Sing, oh, rarest of roundelays . instil W*0.ni bk . 359 
 
 Some peoples thinks they ain t no Fairies now . 539 
 Some sings of the lilly, and daisy, and rose 3 auw. varff 
 
 Somep n at s common-like, and good >\ Io bnlA . 118 
 
 Sometimes I think at Parunts does s:xibint*iq . 458 
 
 Sometimes my Conscience says, says he . nitbo . 571 
 
 Sometimes, when I bin bad ;d ymuli blO &4T" . 139 
 
 Such was the Child-World of the long-ago oa . 510 
 
 Take a feller at s sick and laid up on the shelf . 218 
 
 "Talkin bout yer bees," says Ike f Viiv;filq sulk z\v 384 
 
 Talkin o poetry There re few men yit . [[js.tt . 557 
 
 Tell you a story an it s a fac .... 204 
 
 Tell you what I like the best . i oJ sir enid! 91 77 
 
 That-air young-un ust to set ,jwx>b xw* ifi* avi 3d a; 147 
 
 The Boy lives on our Farm, he s not fUr ,v5hnbi . 190 
 
 595 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The delights of our childhood is soon passed away . 68 
 The funniest thing in the world, I know . rni^-g . 163 
 The hoss he is a splendud beast ;mvl \&*vyi if. k~A . 46 
 The Jaybird he s my favorite ..... 453 
 The Little Mock-man on the Stairs . qzy\ I ,HOJ>. . 272 
 The little tiny kickshaw that Mither sent tae me . 118 
 The moon in the sky is a custard pie .... 357 
 The Muskingum Valley How longin the gaze . 252 
 The Old Bob-white, and Chipbird . ;H.i.> vJ-! . 264 
 The Old Haymow s the place to play lO- -.]>i 3b . 152 
 The Poems here at Home! Who ll write em down 361 
 The summer winds is sniffin round the bloomin lo 
 cus trees . . mi J . Vj^ddi*.) V>.Hon atui I. 8 
 The Summer s put the idy in . Jtv^-ir *r-j\t*jff &li . 10 
 There was Father, and Mother, and Emmy, and Jane 323 
 There wasn t two purtier farms in the stater bam . 558 
 There s old man Willards ; an his wife \Q Izi ist . 99 
 They ain t no style about em . v;fj ?.-Anull zolqo . 74 
 They wuz a Big Day wunst in town . tujt :;o r/nr . 314 
 They s a kind o feel in the air, to me arfjro V^ . 283 
 They s a prejudice allus twixt country and town . 60 
 They s nothin in the name to strike . io3 xrn.?-> 121 
 This is The Old Home by the Mill" fei we still 
 
 call it so . e-anpl vii lo.bno7/ r -b!LfD ><!* 2 . 137 
 
 This man Jones was what you d call .... 124 
 
 Thweet Poethy! let me lithp forthwith- alls isJb . 292 
 
 Tommy s alluz playin* jokes V% \^^J i^v jirfd ; . 432 
 
 Tomps ud allus haf to say : ^raio/fT y/i3 r >oq o . 202 
 
 W^ ha . C>IK old-fa .! .< -. 1 Piil; fe li ii viola uo{ IiT 
 
 *Uncle he learns us to rhyme an* write -IH J tflvv . 448 
 
 *Uncle he says at way down in the sea . WH 447 
 
 Uncle Sidney, when he was here ! .;ino ao H-J ill io^ 14^ 
 
 596 
 
 \ 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 *Uncle Sidney s vurry proud ^-iqowS sb-bid sitti, . 448 
 
 Uncle William, last July . noiioM guIIoT lw . 396 
 
 Up and down old Brandywine . IB &M ^m "ii. si . 254 
 
 *Us childern s all so lonesome . ..heiib.xd^fi. iu . 312 
 
 Us farmers in the country, as the seasons go and come 71 
 
 Us-folks is purty pore but Ma . .. >borfe Dffu 450 
 
 Us parents mostly thinks our own s . ?nbt2 slonl . 349 
 Q*> . . IbJ ^anbici 9 bn!I -ussri w iwrfW 
 "Want to be whur mother is! Want to be whur 
 
 mother is!" . . . >miMoniinu2. 73 ,ami. . 120 
 
 Wasn t it a funny dream ! perfectly bewild rin . 425 
 
 Wasn t it a good time tl.xoiMsqqsq Tuo.b^oot . 428 
 We got it up a-purpose, jes fer little Johnts, you 
 
 know ..... 9?/rnnillI m teaW x*w 163 
 
 We got up a Christmas-doin s . nirj^ft-s^n jw. 3^ . 234 
 
 We love your dear old face and voice ^uw ->intt * . 283 
 Well, it s enough to turn his head to have a feller s 
 
 name ......... 267 
 
 What is it in old fiddle-chunes at makes me ketch my 
 
 breath .... wornf I. ,3:>oI!o>bH a; . 274 
 
 What makes you come here fer, Mister . onj 9 . 179 
 
 "Whatever the weather may be," says he . od . 131 
 
 When Autumn shakes the rambo-tree isia bn& rf: . 430 
 
 When Bess gave her dollies a Tea, said she .>m. 3> . 459 
 
 When Dicky was sick ,\~v . oJfiwo-j .arf* ru aiodrt? . 433 
 
 When ever thing s a-goin like she s got-a-goin now 356 
 
 When frost s all on our winder, an the snows . . 450 
 
 When I was ist a Brownie a weenty-teenty Brownie 413 
 
 "When it s got to be," like I always say . . . 354 
 
 When it s night, and no light, too .... 144 
 
 When Lide married him w y, she had to jes clee-fy 259 
 When Little Claude was naughty wunst . . .172 
 
 597 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 When Little Dickie Swope s a man . <7 f\?ni .175 
 
 When little Tollus Morton he s ;!! t^L .rmBtllrV/ . 438 
 
 When Me an my Ma an Pa went to the Fair . . 383 
 
 When our baby died . . jrnoeonol.o?. Kg f. uishlr . 145 
 When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder s 
 
 in the shock . . ^M -ttifi -9 toq ^intiq ei e?&&- 17 
 
 When Uncle Sidney he comes here . vjjdorn ^Jn:> . 410 
 When we hear Uncle Sidney tell . . . .439 
 
 Where s a boy a-goin Ui ia;toora ttiAvr ocf. oj . 168 
 
 Winter-time, er Summer-time . . .. ! *t. 11 . 221 
 
 Wunst I sassed my Pa, an he . rEo.ib Nrfjnij} Jr . 191 
 
 Wimst I tooked our pepper-box lid . hoo^ 3 . 237 
 
 Wunst upon a time wunst 5^ ,9*OirM;q- <IJ. it . 424 
 
 Wunst, way West in Illinoise ..... 453 
 
 Wunst we went a-fishin Me . tBtp.te nti 3 s /?u . 189 
 
 W y, one time wuz a little-ween ty dirl u;:xL> luvi ^ 534 
 
 W y, wunst they wuz a Little Boy went out:ort2 g . 547 
 
 You better not fool with a Bumblebee ri Mo rd Jt . 167 
 
 You-folks rickollect, I know . . . .. : . 460 
 
 You have more n likely noticed 90103 ,voy ?3> f r . 358 
 You kin boast about yer cities, and their stiddy 
 
 growth and size jpi}-otfmT .srft z rA&\z nrnaJti/ . 110 
 
 You make me jes a little nervouser ri i?7y i;go^ . 563 
 Your neghbors in the country, whare you come from, 
 
 hain t f ergot 2...fSJ. ^fUV.ros-s >: ^!rir{J e .i9v3 . 69 
 
 598 
 
RETURN TO: CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT 
 198 Main Stacks 
 
 LOAN PERIOD 1 
 Home Use 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS. 
 
 Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due date. 
 Books may be renewed by calling 642-3405. 
 
 DUE AS STAMPED BELOW. 
 
 
 
 
 AUG 2 201 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 FORM NO. DD6 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY 
 50M 5-03 Berkeley, California 94720-6000 
 
3- 
 
 ^THe^oosi 
 
 PR 
 
 Y 11 
 
 8 193i 
 
 FEB 23 193 
 
 r book,ccanp 
 
 
 hoo 
 
 784916 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY