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LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

I 

GIFT  OF  ti 

GEORGE  MOREY  RICHARDSON. 


Received,  August, 


Accession  No.££  Class  No. 


_______  *LJ_ 

'KKKKKKKKKK& 


SONGS   OF   THE   SEA 

AND 

LAYS  OF  THE  LAND 


SONGS  OF  THE   SEA 


AND 


LAYS  OF  THE  LAND 


BY 

CHARLES  GODFREY  LELAND 


LONDON 

ADAM    AND    CHARLES    BLACK 
1895 


732 


OF  THK 

UNIVERSITY 


PREFACE 

AMONG  the  songs  in  this  collection  are  the  Brand  New  Ballads  already 
known  more  or  less  to  the  public,  several  of  them  having  an  American 
newspaper  circulation,  while  a  few  are  given  at  times  in  public  readings  ; 
since  I  have  learned,  for  example,  that  "  In  Nevada  "  was  one  of  the 
stock-pieces  of  Mr.  Clifford  Harrison.  They  now  reappear  amended 
and  with  additions. 

In  the  "  Songs  of  the  Sea  "  the  reader  will  not  fail  to  observe  that 
three  or  four,  such  as  the  "  Mermaid  "  and  "  Time  for  Us  to  Go,"  are 
not  by  me  at  all.  They  are  sailors'  songs  of  the  olden  time,  intro 
duced  as  suggestions  for  other  lyrics,  as  I  have  indeed  declared  in  the 
text,  and  also  to  aid  in  the  main  purpose  or  idea  which  inspires  the 
whole  collection — they  being  in  this  respect  like  stones  from  more 
ancient  edifices  built  into  new  houses,  as  was  the  wont  of  men  in 
the  middle  age. 

This  main  purpose  was  to  set  forth  with  scrupulous  care,  as  of  a 
statue  photographed  from  many  sides,  the  mariner  of  the  sailing — 
not  steaming — ship,  who  is  now  rapidly  passing  away,  although  some  tens 
of  thousands  of  the  species  are  still  to  be  found  in  the  remoter  routes 


vi          SONGS  OF  THE  SEA  AND  LA  YS  OF  THE  LAND 

of  travel.  This  kind  of  man  should  be  interesting,  because  he  is  almost 
the  only  one  who  is  drawn  into  his  calling  by  a  desire  to  rove  about  the 
world  and  lead  an  adventurous,  reckless,  manly  life.  Into  this  life 
entered,  I  may  say,  as  "  vitalising  elements,"  "  shipwrecks  and  disasters 
of  the  sea,"  the  extremes  of  discipline  and  dissipation,  as  well  as  those 
of  cynical  scepticism  and  superstition,  the  seeing,  like  Ulysses,  cities 
and  men,  and  the  consciousness,  so  clear  to  undeveloped  minds  and 
smaller  natures,  of  belonging  to  a  "peculiar"  class.  This  I  have 
borne  in  mind  most  earnestly,  and  those  who  perceive  it  will  also  find 
that  in  this  spirit  the  following  notes  and  sketches  in  song  illustrate,  I 
trust  accurately,  a  consistent  ideal  text,  and  that  all  the  songs  unite  to 
form  a  single  poem. 

As  for  the  many  scraps,  "chanties,"  choruses,  sayings,  similes, 
and  bits  of  sea-lore  worked  up  into  the  lyrics  here  and  there,  I  make 
no  attempt  whatever  to  indicate  what  is  borrowed ;  all  that  I  can  say  of 
it  is,  that  if  the  mere  gathering  the  stones  is  all  the  merit  of  making  a 
mosaic  picture  (as  many  seem  to  think),  then  I  could  claim  little  merit 
for  originality.  But  as  this  is  not  a  folk-lore  book,  in  which  a  writer  is 
held  sternly  accountable  "  to  give  authority  for  every  word,"  and  as  a 
mass  of  notes  would  have  simply  defeated  the  whole  aim  of  the  book,  I 
have  preferred  making  myself  amenable  to  the  charge  of  plagiarism  to 
boring  my  reader — even  as  an  Italian  devoted  servant  of  whom  I  once 
heard,  preferred  to  be  carried  off  by  the  police,  on  the  charge  of  stealing 
oranges,  rather  than  awaken  and  disturb  his  master  who  could  have 
explained  the  matter.  I  can,  however,  truly  say  that  as  regards  ideas, 


PREFACE  vii 

incidents,  tales,  turns  of  speech  and  idioms,  current  sayings,  and  so  on, 
from  poetry  down  to  vulgarity,  I  have  literally  taken  so  much  from 
sailors  themselves  that  the  work,  if  analysed,  would  be  a  curiosity  of 
collocation,  like  the  poems  made  up  entirely  of  proverbs,  or  the  Sermon 
of  Texts. 

Here  I  would  mention  my  obligation  to  more  than  one  ancient 
mariner,  and  specially  to  my  old  friend,  Captain  Stead,  now  so  long  a 
dweller  at  the  Langham  Hotel,  for  advising  about,  and  revising,  these 
ballads.  These  friends  having  carefully  studied  the  work  and  cor 
rected  or  modelled  its  every  sentence  into  ship-shape,  have  been  kind 
enough  to  assure  me  that  it  would  hold  its  own  in  the  forecastle,  as  a 
real  thing,  and  not  an  imitation ;  which  saying  uttered  in  sooth  and 
truth  especially  by  a  friend  of  forty  years'  experience  in  sailing-vessels, 
mostly  "  before  the  war,"  was  to  me  greatly  encouraging. 

What  I  have  above  written  of  the  "  Songs  of  the  Sea "  is  equally 
true  of  the  other  ballads  in  this  volume.  They  also  form  a  series 
of  eccentric  pictures  of  American  life  after  the  war,  brought  together, 
not  like  chance  pictures  in  a  scrap-book,  but  as  I  before  said,  to  carry 
out  one  idea  in  reference  to  a  special  subject.  In  this  spirit  and  to 
this  end  were  they  written,  from  current  prose  tales.  Nor  have  I  ever 
forgotten  that  there  is  in  them  for  the  future  a  kind  of  folk-lore  which 
is  never  so  apparent  to  those  who  live  in  it  as  to  those  who  inherit  it. 
When  I  was  a  small  boy,  there  was  in  my  aunt's  kitchen  in  Milford, 
Massachusetts,  a  cheese-knife,  which  had  no  special  interest  to  anybody 
save  to  me,  because  it  had  been  the  very  sword  carried  by  General 


viii        SONGS  OF  THE  SEA  AND  LA  YS  OF  THE  LAND 

Eaton  in  his  famous  march  over  the  Desert  to  attack  Algiers.  Nowa 
days  it  would  be  greatly  prized.  So  it  is  sometimes  worth  while  to 
think  of  these  things  which  we  now  possess,  and  how  rapidly  they  are 
hastening  to  become  curiosities — I  myself  having  lived  to  see  every 
object  familiar  to  me  in  youth  become  bric-a-brac.  In  the  last  age, 
everything  not  in  the  newest  fashion  was  despised — in  this  there  is  a 
highly-cultured  class  just  beginning  to  show  itself  beyond  the  Realists 
and  disciples  of  Mental-analytical  Chemistry,  who  look  alternately  at 
the  Past  and  Future, 

Even  as  Janus  on  the  Capitol 

Saw  all  that  was  or  ever  yet  would  be. 

There  may  be  a  few  among  the  jealous  guardians  or  spokes  around 
the  Hub  who  may  demand  by  what  right  I  invade  the  sacred  precincts 
of  Boston,  and  sing  about  its  past.  Well,  my  boyhood  was  half  passed 
in  Boston  or  near  it ;  there  the  romance  of  sailor  life,  which  was  mar 
vellous  in  those  times,  imbued  me,  and  then  and  there  in  common  with 
my  mates  I  devoured  the  Mariners'  Chronicle,  Shipwrecks  and  Disasters 
of  the  Sea,  Lives  of  the  Buccaneers,  and  listened  with  avidity  to  the  tales 
of  those  who  had  been  on  the  briny  deep.  Nearly  all  my  first-cousins 
had  at  one  time  or  other  run  away  and  gone  to  sea  or  taken  long 
voyages.  Among  the  former  were  Benjamin  Stimson,  the  "  S  "  of  Two 
Years  Before  the  Mast ;  Charles  Leland,  who  afterwards  grew  like 
Samuel  Jackson  to  the  height  of  seven  feet;  and  Samuel  Godfrey. 
From  these  and  many  more  I  learned  an  incredible  number  of  sea 


PREFACE  ix 

stories  and  songs,  none  of  which  I  ever  forgot,  being  to  an  extra 
ordinary  degree  accustomed  to  keep  repeating  to  myself  these  "  stranger 
legends  of  the  olden  time."  Hence  it  comes  that  I  have  in  my  mind 
such  vivid  memories  of  the  old  North  End  of  Boston. 

I  would  say  in  conclusion  what  will  be  apparent  enough  to  many, 
that  these  Ballads  make  no  great  pretence  to  be  poetry.  They  consist 
of  incidents  or  small  "motives"  cast  into  rhyme  or  measure,  as  the 
easiest  method  of  giving  them  a  certain  value,  just  as  a  tune  brings  out 
a  song.  Most  rhymers  are  criticised  more  or  less  severely  for  pretend 
ing  to  be  poets ;  all  that  I  can  claim  for  this  volume  is,  that  it  is  a  kind 
of  collection  of  curiosities  which,  as  they  have  seemed  to  me  to  be 
worth  remembering,  will,  I  trust,  be  regarded  by  others  as  worth  reading. 

CHARLES  GODFREY  LELAND. 

FLORENCE,  1894. 


CONTENTS 


SONGS    OF    THE    SEA 

PAGE 

THE  OLD  TAVERN     .......          r 

EL  CAPITAN  GENERAL        ...          .         .  .  .           .  f          ^ 

UNCLE  SAM    .           .           .    .    '    .  .           m  .9 

MOTHER  CAREY        .           .           .           .  .           .  !^ 

THE  BIRD  CREW       ....  I7 

DAVY  JONES    ...  ...        19 

THE  DEVIL'S  POT      ....  21 

ONE,  Two,  THREE    .            .            .            ,  .  .        24 

LA  BELLA  STREGA    ....  .  .        27 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  WITCH      •        '.-•<,«'.  31 

THE  WITCH'S  Box    ....  .  3S 

THE  MERMAID           ...           ...  .            .  .41 

THE  MERMAN  .  .  . 


.  .  .  .  .  ,  -43 

THE  WIZARD  FINN   .....  .51 

CHARLEY  BUFF         ......  •  •        55 

BOLD  ROBIN  ROVER  ..  .  .  •  '  •        59 

TIME  FOR  Us  TO  Go  .  .  .  .  .        64 

ROLLING  OVER         ..  .t  .  .  .  .  .        67 


SONGS  OF  THE  SEA  AND  LA  YS  OF  THE  LAND 

PAGE 

THE  MUSQUITO         .......        71 

STAND  FROM  UNDER  !......        73 

NEAR  HAVANNA        .  .  .  .  .  -77 

THE  THREE  DEAD  MEN      ......        80 

THE  LADY-SAILOR    .......        82 

THE  SPANISH  SAILOR'S  SONG          .....        84 

THE  LOVER  TO  THE  SAILOR  .....        86 

GREEN  CORN  AND  POTATOES  .....        87 

THE  SAILOR'S  FAREWELL     ......        90 

MACKEREL  SIGNS      .  .  .  .  ...  .94 

TRUE  BLUE    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .96 

THE  STORY  OF  SAMUEL  JACKSON    .....        99 

THE  DANDY  SHIP     .  .  .  ....  .      104 

JACK  OF  ALL  TRADES  .  .  .  .  .  .107 

THE  GIRL  WIND  no 


LAYS   OF   THE    LAND 

THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  GLORY VILLE        .          '.  .  115 

IN  THE  WRONG  Box  .  .  .  .          ,.  .      123 

ZION  JERSEY  BOGGS  .  ...  .  .  .  .       130 

THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  GREEN  OLD  MAN    .  .  .  .142 

CARRYING  COALS       .......      148 

CAREY,  OF  CARSON    .  .  .  .  .  .  .150 

JOSEPHI  IN  BENICIA  .  .  .  .  .  .  .156 

THE  STORY  OF  A  LIE  ......       161 

THE  LEGEND  OF  SAINT  ANTHONY  .....      164 


CONTENTS  xiii 

PAGE 

A  RUSSIAN  LYRIC     .......      169 

MELODRAMNATION     .  .  .  .  .  .   .        .       173 

A  TALE  OF  IDAHO    .  .  .  .  .  .177 

A  CALIFORNIAN  ROMANCE  ......      182 

THE  STORY  OF  MR.  SCROPER,  ARCHITECT  .  .  .187 

THAT  INTERESTIN'  BOY        .  .  .  ...  .'       190 

Miss  MILES,  THE  TELEGRAPH  GIRL  .    '        .  j       .  .191 

AN  AMERICAN  COCK-TALE  .  ...  .  ..198 

JUDGE  WYMAN          .  .  .  .  .  .  207 

IN  NEVADA    .  .  ....  .  .  .      213 

THE  PHILANTHROPIC  CLUB  ...  .  .  .  .      223 

THE  COLOURED  FORTUNE-HUNTER  .  .  .      227 

PENN  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  ._         .      228 

BALLAD  OF  THE  FOXES  %  .      232 

EST  MODUS  IN  REBUS          ......      237 

THE  MASHER  .  .  .  .  .  .  .      243 

ARIZONA  JOHN          .  .  .  .  .  .  .      249 

THE  BALLAD  OF  CHARITY   .  .  .  .  .  .      252 

MULTUM  IN  PARVO  .  .  .  .  .  .      256 

THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO          .  .  .  .  .      258 

THE  GOTH  AND  THE  PIGEON          ,.          ....      268 

REFLECTIONS  IN  A  PRINTING-OFFICE         ....      275 

APPENDIX  ........      277 


SONGS    OF    THE    SEA 


I  SAW  three  sailors  synging,  hey  howe  ! 

Upon  yon  lea-land  hey  ! 

I  hearde  three  mariners  rynging,  rumbelowe  : 
Upon  yon  sea  strand  gaye. 
Synge  hey  howe,  rumbelowe, 
Row  the  boat,  Norman,  rowe  ! 

Percy's  Relics, 


THE   OLD   TAVERN 

IN  the  North  End  of  Boston,  long  ago ; 
Although  'tis  yet  within  my  memory  ; 
There  were  of  gabled  houses  many  a  row, 
With  overhanging  storeys  two  or  three, 
And  many  with  half-doors  over  whose  end 
Leaning  upon  her  elbows,  the  good-wife 
At  eventide  conversed  with  many  a  friend 
Of  all  the  little  chances  of  their  life ; 
Small  ripples  in  a  stream  which  ran  full  slow 
In  the  North  End  of  Boston,  long  ago. 

And  'mid  these  houses  was  a  Hostelrie 
Frequented  by  the  people  of  the  sea, 
Known  as  the  Boy  and  Barrel,  from  its  sign  : 
A  jolly  urchin  on  a  cask  of  wine 


THE  OLD  TAVERN 

Bearing  the  words  which  puzzled  every  eye — 
Orbus  In  Tactu  Mainet1  Heaven  knows  why. 
Even  there  a  bit  of  Latin  made  a  show, 
In  the  North  End  of  Boston — long  ago. 

And  many  a  sailor,  when  his  cruise  was  o'er, 
Bore  straight  for  it  soon  as  he  touched  the  shore  : 
In  many  a  stormy  night  upon  the  sea 
He'd  thought  upon  the  Boy — and  of  the  spree 
He'd  have  when  there,  and  let  all  trouble  go, 
In  the  North  End  of  Boston,  long  ago. 

There,  like  their  vessels  in  a  friendly  port, 
Met  many  mariners  of  every  kind, 
Spinning  strange  yarns  of  many  a  varied  sort, 
Well  sheltered  from  the  ocean  and  the  wind ; 
In  a  long  low  dark  room  they  lounged  at  ease ; 
Strange  men  there  were  from  many  a  distant  land, 
And  there  above  the  high  old  chimney-piece 

1  See  Appendix. 


THE  OLD  TAVERN 

Were  curiosities  from  many  a  strand, 

Which  often  made  strange  tales  and  memories  flow 

In  the  North  End  of  Boston,  long  ago. 

And  there  I  often  sat  to  hear  those  tales, 

From  men  who'd  passed  through  storm  and  fight  and  fire, 

Of  mighty  icebergs  and  stupendous  whales, 

Of  shipwrecked  crews  and  of  adventures  dire, 

Until  the  thought  came  to  me  on  a  time, 

While  I  was  listening  to  that  merry  throng, 

That  I  would  write  their  stories  out  in  rhyme, 

And  weave  into  it  many  a  sailor's  song, 

That  men  might  something  of  the  legends  know 

Of  the  North  End  of  Boston,  long  ago. 

First  it  was  said  that  Captain  Kidd  in  truth 
Had  revelled  in  that  tavern  with  his  crew, 
And  there  it  was  he  lost  the  Golden  Tooth 
Which  brought  him  treasure,  and  the  gossips  knew 
Moll  Pitcher  dwelt  there  in  the  days  of  yore, 


THE  OLD  TAVERN 

And  Peter  Rugg  had  stopped  before  the  door 
Tom  Walker  there  did  with  the  Devil  go 
In  the  North  End  of  Boston,  long  ago. 

Nor  had  I  long  to  wait,  for  at  the  word 
Some  one  observed  that  he  had  seen  in  Spain 
A  captain  hung — which  Abner  Chapin  heard 
And  said,  "  I  too  upon  the  Spanish  Main 
Met  with  a  man  well  known  unto  us  all, 
Who  nearly  hung  a  Captain  General." 
He  told  the  tale  and  I  did  rhyme  it  so  ; 
In  the  North  End  of  Boston,  long  ago. 


EL  CAPITAN  GENERAL 

THERE  was  a  Captain  General  who  ruled  in  Vera  Cruz, 
And  what  we  used  to  hear  of  him  was  always  evil  news ; 
He  was  a  pirate  on  the  sea — a  robber  on  the  shore  : 
The  Sefior  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 

There  was  a  Yankee  skipper  who  round  about  did  roam, 
His  name  was  Stephen  Folger  and  Nantucket  was  his  home. 
And  having  gone  to  Vera  Cruz  he  had  been  skinned  full  sore 
By  the  Sefior  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 

But  having  got  away  alive,  though  all  his  cash  was  gone, 
He  said,  "  If  there  is  Vengeance,  I  will  surely  try  it  on  ! 
And  I  do  wish  I  may  be  damned  if  I  don't  clear  the  score 
With  Sefior  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador  ! " 


EL  CAPITAN  GENERAL 

He  shipped  a  crew  of  seventy  men — well-armed  men  were  they, 
And  sixty  of  them  in  the  hold  he  darkly  stowed  away, 
And  sailing  back  to  Vera  Cruz  was  sighted  from  the  shore, 
By  the  Sefior  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 


With  twenty-five  soldados  he  came  on  board  so  pleased 

And  said  :  "  Maldito  Yankee — again  your  ship  is  seized. 

How  many  sailors  have  you  got  ?  "      Said  Folger,  "  Ten — no  more," 

To  the  Captain  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 


"  But  come  into  my  cabin  and  take  a  glass  of  wine, 

I  do  suppose  as  usual,  I'll  have  to  pay  a  fine ; 

I  have  got  some  old  Madeira  and  we'll  talk  the  matter  o'er — 

My  Capitan  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador." 


And  as  over  that  Madeira  the  Captain  General  boozed, 

It  seemed  to  him  as  if  his  head  was  getting  quite  confused, 

For  it  happened  that  some  morphine  had  travelled  from  "  the  store  " 

To  the  glass  of  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 


EL  CAPITAN  GENERAL  7 

"  What  is  it  makes  the  vessel  roll  ?      What  sounds  are  these  I  hear  ? 
It  seems  as  if  the  rising  waves  were  beating  on  my  ear  ! " 
"  Oh  it  is  the  breaking  of  the  surf — just  that  and  nothing  more, 
My  Captain  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador  ! " 


The  Governor  was  in  a  sleep  which  muddled  all  his  brains, 
The  seventy  men  had  got  his  gang  and  put  them  all  in  chains, 
And  when  he  woke  the  following  day  he  could  not  see  the  shore, 
For  he  was  out  on  the  blue  water — the  Don  San  Salvador. 


"  Now  do  you  see  that  yard-arm — and  understand  the  thing?  " 
Said  Captain  Folger,  "  For  all  from  that  yard-arm  you  shall  swing, 
Or  forty  thousand  dollars  you  must  pay  me  from  your  store, 
My  Captain  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador." 


The  Capitano  took  a  pen — the  order  he  did  sign, 
"  O  Senor  Yankee  ! — but  you  charge  amazing  high  for  wine  !  " 
But  'twas  not  till  the  draft  was  paid  they  let  him  go  ashore, 
El  Senor  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 


EL  CAPITAN  GENERAL 

The  greatest  sharp  some  day  will  find  another  sharper  wit, 
It  always  makes  the  devil  laugh  to  see  a  biter  bit ; 
It  takes  two  Spaniards  any  day  to  come  a  Yankee  o'er : 
Even  two  like  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 


And  when  this  tale  was  told,  another  man 

Cried  out,  "  I'll  swear  'tis  true  as  true  can  be, 
Unto  his  health  we'll  have  all  round  a  can ! 

For  Captain  Folger  is  well  known  to  me. 
Now  I  will  sing  '  first  lines '  of  '  Uncle  Sam,' 

And  he  who  can  shall  add  at  once  a  second, 
I'll  call  you  one  by  one — now  here  I  am, 

And  he  who  balks  shall  be  the  loser  reckoned, 
And  pay  for  drinks  all  round  " — 

"  All  right,"  they  roared, 
"  Now  then  begin,  for  we  are  all  on  board  !  " 


UNCLE   SAM 

WHEN  there's  rain  and  shine  together, 
Chorus.  Yo  heave  ho  ! 

Uncle  Sam  is  in  the  weather : 
Chorus.  Yo  heave  ho  ! 

When  the  sun  shines  through  a  fog, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 
Uncle  Samuel  drinks  his  grog : 

Yo  heave  ho ! 

When  the  blue  sky  shows  in  pieces, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 
Those  are  Uncle  Samuel's  breeches  : 

Yo  heave  ho ! 


io  UNCLE  SAM 

When  a  cloud  is  low  and  flat, 
Yo  heave  ho ! 

That  is  Uncle  Samuel's  hat : 
Yo  heave  ho  ! 


When  the  wind  is  loud  and  bad, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 
Then  Old  Sam  is  getting  mad : 

Yo  heave  ho ! 


When  the  wind  begins  to  bellow, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 
Uncle  Sam  is  in  the  cellar : 

Yo  heave  ho  ! 


When  the  sky  is  clean  and  red, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 
Uncle  Sam  is  gone  to  bed : 

Yo  heave  ho ! 


UNCLE  SAM 

When  you  hear  the  wind  a-roaring, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 
That  is  Uncle  Sam  a-snoring : 

Yo  heave  ho ! 


When  you  see  the  lightning  spooning, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 
Then  old  Uncle  Sam's  harpooning : 

Yo  heave  ho ! 


When  you  hear  the  wind  a-barking, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 
Uncle  Sam  has  gone  a-sharking : 

Yo  heave  ho ! 


When  you  see  a  santo-corpus, 
Yo  heave  ho ! 

Uncle  Sam  is  arter  a  porpus  : 
Yo  heave  ho ! 


12  UNCLE  SAM 

When  the  water  gabbles  too  much, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 

t 
Uncle  Sam  is  talking  Dutch  : 

Yo  heave  ho ! 


When  the  sea  hawk's  scream  is  heard, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 
He  wants  to  know  if  there's  Dutch  on  board  : 

Yo  heave  ho ! 


When  the  wind's  before  the  rain, 

Yo  heave  ho ! 
Soon  you  can  make  sail  again : 

Yo  heave  ho ! 


"  Belay  that  song  I  say — 'tis  gettin'  weary  : " 

Cried  out  a  voice,  "  Let's  change  to  Mother  Carey  ! " 


MOTHER    CAREY 

WITH  the  wind  old  Mother  Carey, 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
Churns  the  sea  to  make  her  dairy : 

Yo  ho  oh ! 

When  you  see  a  storm  a-brewin', 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
That  is  Mother  Carey's  doin' : 

Yo  ho  oh ! 

When  you  see  Mother  Carey's  chickens, 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
Then  look  out  to  catch  the  dickens  ! 

Yo  ho  oh  ! 


i4  MOTHER  CAREY 

When  you  hear  the  icebergs  rattle, 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
Those  are  Mother  Carey's  cattle : 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


When  you  see  them  split— a-halving, 

Yo  ho  oh  ! 
Then  Mother  Carey's  cows  are  calving 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


When  you  see  a  flying  fish, 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
Lose  no  time  but  make  your  wish 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


Irish  pennons  when  they're  flying, 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
Set  old  Mother  Carey  crying : 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


MOTHER  CAREY 

When  the  sea-gulls  dip  for  slush, 

Yo  ho  oh  ! 
Mother  Carey  stirs  the  mush  : 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


When  one  sea-gull  follows  you, 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
Mother  Carey  soon  makes  it  two 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


When  the  sea-gulls  fly  by  two, 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
Soon  good  luck  will  come  to  you 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


When  the  sea-gulls  fly  by  threes, 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
Soon  you'll  have  a  spanking  breeze 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


1 6  MOTHER  CAREY 

If  seven  follow  you  into  port, 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
There  the  sailors  '11  have  good  sport 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


When  a  rope  trails  in  the  water, 

Yo  ho  oh  ! 
That  is  Mother  Carey's  garter : 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


When  the  clouds  are  red  as  roses, 

Yo  ho  oh ! 
Those  are  Mother  Carey's  posies  : 

Yo  ho  oh  ! 


If  you  want  to  win  your  Mary, 

Yo  ho  oh  ! 
Throw  out  a  biscuit  to  Mother  Carey 

Yo  ho  oh ! 


THE  BIRD  CREW  17 

And  so  they  would  have  chantyd  all  night  long, 
But  some  one  broke  it  with  another  song. 


THE   BIRD   CREW 

THE  Albatross 

Is  the  captain  and  boss, 

Haul  away  boys,  haul  away  ! 
The  sea-gull  queers 
Are  the  officeers, 

Haul  away  boys,  haul  away  ! 
And  the  Carey  chickens  as  I  guess 
Is  every  one  an  A.B.S., 

Haul  away  boys,  haul  away  ! 


"  I've  heard,"  said  Chapin,  "  many  folk  agree, 
Those  birds  are  souls  of  sailors  lost  at  sea, 


1 8  THE  BIRD  CREW 

And  often  one  around  the  vessel  flies 
To  give  us  warning  ere  the  storms  arise." 


"  Talkin'  of  spirits  in  the  vasty  deep," 

Said  Ezra  Bullard,  late  of  Marblehead, 

"  There's  one  at  least  who  never  goes  to  sleep, 

And  mighty  little  good  of  him  is  said ; 

His  special  dispensation  is  to  watch 

The  bottom  of  the  ocean,  and  to  see 

It  don't  fall  out — for  if  it  did  we  catch 

The  very  direst  kind  of  misery, 

For  all  the  water  runnin'  through  the  hole 

Would  leave  it  dry  as  you  can  understand, 

And  from  the  Arctic  to  the  'tother  pole, 

Twould  be  one  thunderin'  lot  of  empty  land." 

And  thereupon  in  his  south-wester  tones 

He  let  us  have  the  song  of  Davy  Jones. 


DAVY   JONES 

DOWN  in  the  sea  among  sand  and  stones, 
There  lives  the  old  fellow  called  Davy  Jones. 


When  storms  come  up  he  sighs  and  groans, 
And  that  is  the  singing  of  Davy  Jones. 


His  chest  is  full  of  dead  men's  bones, 
And  that  is  the  locker  of  Davy  Jones. 


Davy  is  Welsh  you  may  hear  by  his  tones, 
For  a  regular  Welsher  is  Davy  Jones. 


20  DAVY  JONES 

Whenever  a  fish  gets  drowned,  he  moans, 
So  tender-hearted  is  Davy  Jones. 


Thousands  of  ships  the  old  man  owns, 
But  none  go  a-sailing  for  Davy  Jones. 


"Well— since  you  talk  o'  the  bottom  of  the  sea," 
Said  Enoch  Doolittle  of  Salem  town, 
"  I  know  a  yarn  that  beats  you  full  and  free, 
Because,  d'ye  know,  it  takes  you  deeper  down, 
And  if  you're  taken  down — of  course  you're  beat. " 
"  That's  so,"  cried  all,  "  so  now  your  yarn  repeat !  " 
"  All  right,"  quoth  Doolittle,  "  I'll  serve  it  hot, 
Because,  d'ye  see,  it's  called  The  Devil's  Pot. 
But  'fore  I  dive  into  the  salty  brine, 
Give  me  a  gill  of  white  New  England  wine  ! 
Take  one  all  round  to  benefit  the  pub. 
Now  for  the  bottom  of  the  pickle  tub." 


THE  DEVIL'S  POT1 

THERE'S  a  place  where  you  see  the  Atlantic  heave 
Like  water  boiling  hot ; 

Where  you  come  with  grief  and  with  joy  you  leave, 
And  they  call  it  the  Devil's  Pot. 

Now  there  was  a  witch  in  the  good  old  time, 
And  she  had  such  power,  they  say, 
Through  rocks  or  stones  or  sand  or  lime, 
She  could  always  make  her  way. 

One  night  on  a  broom  she  went  with  a  whirr ; 
The  devil  he  saw  her  fly, 

1  The  Devil's  Pot  is  a  place  on  the  North  Atlantic  route  where,  according  to 
sailors,  there  is  always  bad  weather. 


22  THE  DEVWS  POT 

And  the  devil  he  fell  in  love  with  her 
As  she  went  sailing  by. 


She  flew  like  the  devil  to  scape  away, 

And  the  devil  so  did  he, 

And  she  jumped  from  her  broom  without  delay 

And  she  dived  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 


And  she  bored  a  hole  when  she  got  down, 
And  round  and  round  she  twirled, 
And  closed  it  behind  as  she  went  on, 
Till  she  went  straight  through  the  world. 


And  the  devil  he  dived  in  the  water  deep, 
And  he  made  it  boil  like  pitch 
As  he  roared  and  raved  with  many  a  leap, 
But  he  never  could  find  the  witch. 


THE  DEVILS  POT  23 

And  still  he  stirs  it  by  night  and  day, 
And  seeks  and  finds  her  not ; 
And  that  is  the  reason,  the  sailors  say, 
Why  it's  called  the  Devil's  Pot. 


"  They  say  that  there  are  witches  everywhere," 
Said  Jones  of  Chesapeake,  "  a  livin'  free ; 
Some  in  the  rocks,  some  flyin'  in  the  air, 
And  some,  in  course,  like  fishes  in  the  sea. 
I've  often  heard  strange  voices  in  the  night — 
They  wan't  no  birds  I'll  swer,  nor  any  sitch — 
One  called  me  once  by  name ;  it  gim'me  fright — 
And  that  I'm  sartin  was  a  water-witch. 
One  can't  in  nat'ral  wise  account  for  that, 

All  you  can  call  it  is  a  Mr.  E 

But  there  are  witches,  I  will  bet  a  hat ; 
And  so  I'll  sing  the  song  of  One,  Two,  Three, 
Fust  drinkin'  all  your  healths," — no  more  he  said, 
But  in  a  good  round  voice  went  straight  ahead  : 


ONE,  TWO,  THREE 

I  SAW  three  witches  as  the  wind  blew  cold 
In  a  red  light  to  the  lee ; 
Bold  they  were  and  over-bold 
As  they  sailed  over  the  sea ; 

Calling  for  One,  Two,  Three  ! 

Calling  for  One,  Two,  Three ! 

And  I  think  I  can  hear 

It  a-ringing  in  my  ear, 

A-calling  for  the  One,  Two,  Three. 

And  clouds  came  over  the  sky, 
And  the  wind  it  blew  hard  and  free, 
And  the  waves  grew  bold  and  over-bold 
As  we  sailed  over  the  sea ; 


ONE,  TWO,  THREE  25 

Howling  for  One,  Two,  Three  ! 

Howling  for  their  One,  Two,  Three  ! 

Oh  I  think  I  can  hear 

It  a-ringing  in  my  ear, 

A-howling  for  their  One,  Two,  Three  ! 


And  the  storm  came  roaring  on, 
Such  a  storm  as  I  never  did  see, 
And  the  storm  it  was  bold  and  over-bold, 
And  as  bad  as  a  storm  could  be ; 

A-roaring  for  its  One,  Two,  Three ! 

A-howling  for  its  One,  Two,  Three  ! 

Oh  I  think  I  can  hear 

It  a-howling  in  my  ear, 

A-growling  for  its  One,  Two,  Three  ! 


And  a  wave  came  over  the  deck, 
As  big  as  a  wave  could  be, 


26  ONE,  TWO,  THREE 

And  it  took  away  the  captain  and  the  mate  and  a  man 

It  had  got  the  One,  Two,  Three  ! 

And  it  went  with  the  One,  Two,  Three  ! 
Oh  I  think  I  can  hear 
It  a-rolling  in  my  ear, 
As  it  went  with  the  One,  Two,  Three. 


This  being  cheered,  I  said,  "  Some  time  ago 

I  made  a  song  in  the  Italian  tongue 

About  a  witch  and  pirate — which  for  you 

Shall,  if  you  like,  be  now  in  English  sung. 

"  No,  give  it  first,"  cried  Saltonstall,  "by  jingo  ! 

In  its  own  nateral,  Eyetalian  lingo  ; 

What  I  don't  know  of  it  ain't  worth  a  cent ; 

Even  to  Rome  I  several  times  have  went, 

In  Naples,  too,  I've  had  full  many  a  turn 

And  know  old  Spartivento  like  a  dern ; 

And  most  of  us,  I  reckon — though  we're  Yankee — 

Can  go  the  Dago,  or  some  lingua  frankey. 


LA  BELLA  STREGA  27 

We  ain't  so  ignorant  of  what  we  know ; 

So  go  ahead,  Signer— -prestissimo  / 

Ef  we  don't  catch  the  sense  'twill  be  a  pity." — 

So  thus  encouraged  I  began  my  ditty : 


LA   BELLA   STREGA 

ERA  una  bella  Strega 
Che  si  bagnava  alia  riva  ; 
Vennero  i  pirati, 
Lei  presero  captiva. 

II  vento  era  in  poppa, 
SulP  onde  la  nave  ballb, 
La  donna  lacrimante 
Al  capitan  parlb : 

"  O  Signer  Capitano  ! 
O  Capitan'  del  mar ! 


28  LA  BELLA  STREGA 

Daro  cento  ducati 

Se  tu  mi  lasci  andar  !  " 

"  Non  prenderb  cento  ducati, 

Tu  costi  molto  piu, 

lo  te  vendrb  al  Sultano," 

Disse  il  Capitano 

"  Per  mille  zecchini  d'  oro 

Vi  stimi  troppo  giu." 

"  Non  vuoi  i  cento  ducati. 
Ebben,  tu  non  gli  avrai, 
Ho  un'  amante  amato 
Non  mi  abbandona  mai." 

Essa  sede  sul  ponte, 
Principib  a  cantar  : 
"  Vieni  il  mio  amante  !  " 
Da  lontano  il  vento 
Si  mette  a  mugghiar. 


LA  BELLA  STREGA  29 

Forte  e  piii  forte 

La  tempesta  ruggio : 

Gridava  il  Capitano : 

"  lo  credo  che  il  tuo  amante 

E  il  vento  che  corre  innante, 

Ovvero  il  diavolo." 


Forte  e  piu  forte 

La  procella  urlb : 

"  Sono  roccie  davanti, 

E  il  vento  vien  di  dietro, 

Ben  venuto  sei  tu,  mio  amante  ! " 

La  bella  donna  canto. 


"  Vattene  al  tuo  amante 
All'  inferno  a  cantar  ! " 
Disse  il  Capitano, 
E  gettb  la  donna  fuori 
Delia  nave  nel  mar. 


30  LA  BELLA  STREGA 

Ma  come  un  gabbiano 
Sull'  onde  essa  void  : 
"  O  mio  Capitano  ! 
Non  sarai  appiccato, 
Ma  sarai  annegato ; 
Per  sempre  addio  ! " 


"  That's  derned  good  Dago,"  cried  Jack  Saltonstall 
Blamed  ef  I  didn't  understand  it  all. 
For  the  best  songs  are  easiest  understood  : 
Now  then  let's  hear  if  t'other  side's  as  good  ! 
A  song  is  like  a  bird — 'cos  birds  do  sing — 
So  carve  us  out  the  second  breast  and  wing ; 
And  with  your  anthem  bid  our  hearts  rejoice : " 
Encouraged  thus  I  lifted  up  my  voice. 


THE   BEAUTIFUL  WITCH 

A  PRETTY  witch  was  bathing 
By  the  beach  one  summer  day ; 
There  came  a  boat  with  pirates 
Who  carried  her  away. 

The  ship  had  a  breeze  behind  her, 

Over  the  waves  went  she  ! 

"  O  Signor  Capitano, 

O  Captain  of  the  Sea  ! 

I'll  give  you  a  hundred  ducats, 

If  you  will  set  me  free  ! " 

"  I  will  not  take  a  hundred ; 
You're  worth  much  more,  you  know 


32  THE  BE  A  UTIFUL  WITCH 

I'll  sell  you  to  the  Sultan 

For  a  thousand  golden  sequins  : 

You  put  yourself  far  too  low." 


"  You  will  not  take  a  hundred, 
Very  well  then,  let  them  be  ! 
But  I  have  a  constant  lover 
Who,  as  you  may  discover, 
Will  never  abandon  me." 


On  the  deck,  before  the  rover, 
The  witch  began  to  sing : 
"  Oh  come  to  me,  my  lover ! " 
And  the  wind  as  it  stole  over 
Began  to  howl  and  ring. 

Louder  and  ever  louder 
Became  the  tempest's  roar, 
The  captain  in  a  passion 


THE  BE  A  UTIFUL   WITCH  33 

Thus  at  the  lady  swore  : 

"  I  believe  that  your  windy  lover 

Is  the  devil  and  nothing  more  !  " 


Wilder  and  ever  wilder 

The  tempest  raged  and  rang, 

"  There  are  rocks  ahead,  and  the  wind  dead  aft, 

Thank  you,  my  love  ! "  the  lady  laughed 

As  unto  the  wind  she  sang. 

"  Oh  go  with  your  cursed  lover 
To  inferno  to  sing  for  me  !  " 
So  cried  the  angry  captain, 
And  threw  the  lady  over 
To  sink  in  the  stormy  sea. 


But  changing  into  a  sea-gull 
Over  the  waves  she  flew. 
"  O  capitain,  captain  bold,"  sang  she, 
3 


34 


THE  BE  A  UTIFUL  WITCH 

"  'Tis  true  you've  missed  the  gallows  tree, 
But  now  you'll  drown  in  the  foaming  sea, 
O  captain,  forever  adieu  ! " 


"  Talkin'  of  witches  and  magicianers," 
Cried  out  Jack  Saltonstall  of  Newbury  port, 
"  They  are  the  devil's  own  parishioners, 
And  I  knew  one  of  a  peculiar  sort, 
Because  he  was  a  sailor — had  he  been 
A  lawyer,  now,  it  wouldn't  seem  so  queer  : 
For  conjurers  'mong  us  ain't  often  seen, 
And  he  was  of  the  kind  who  ain't  small  beer, 
Possessing  cash  enough  to  roll  in  bliss : 
However  that  may  be,  the  story's  this" 


THE   WITCH'S   BOX 

ONCE  when  I  went  upon  a  trip 
Likewise  to  the  Southern  sea, 
We  had  a  man  upon  the  ship 
And  a  wonderful  man  was  he. 

A  handsomer  man  I  never  did  spy, 
At  home  or  in  any  port ; 
But  there  was  something  in  his  eye 
Of  a  most  peculiar  sort. 

And  all  in  Trinidado's  port 
Was  a  woman  fair  and  rich, 
With  her  my  messmate  did  consort, 
And  I  heard  she  was  a  witch. 


36  THE  WITCHES  BOX 

Her  eyes,  like  his,  had  a  greenish  glare, 
They  seemed  to  be  quite  of  a  level, 
And  the  general  look  of  the  loving  pair 
Was  exactly  the  look  of  the  devil. 


Now  when  it  was  time  to  up  and  lift, 
And  the  ship  must  leave  the  docks, 
He  came  aboard  with  her  parting  gift, 
A  brown  little  wooden  box. 


Now  this  man  had  hardly  a  shirt  to  his  back, 
When  he  started  on  this  trip, 
And  the  mate  declared  that  such  a  Jack 
Was  a  regular  shame  to  the  ship. 


Then  this  man  he  winked  a  dreadful  wink, 
And  said  to  the  mate,  "  I'll  be  floored  : 
But  I've  got  more  clothes  in  my  box,  I  think, 
Than  all  of  the  men  on  board." 


THE  WITCH'S  BOX  37 

Now  his  box  was  only  one  foot  square, 
And  what  was  our  surprise 
When  he  opened  it  and  pulled  out  a  pair 
Of  shirts  before  our  eyes  ! 


Next  came  a  hat  and  a  jacket  blue, 
With  trousers  of  the  best, 
For  everything  was  nice  and  new, 
And  so  on  with  all  the  rest. 


And  when  he  was  drest,  all  spick  and  span, 
We  observed  upon  our  oaths 
That  we  didn't  believe  even  our  old  man 
Had  got  such  a  suit  of  clothes. 


Twenty-four  hours  arter,  I  heard  him  say, 
And  I  thought  it  was  very  strange : 
"  I  never  wear  my  clothes  but  a  day 
And  now  it  is  time  to  change. 


38  THE  WITCH'S  BOX 

"  I  make  you  a  gift  on  'em  fair  and  plain, 
With  a  quid  of  tobacco  to  boot." 
Sayin'  this  he  opened  his  box  again, 
And  pulled  out  another  new  suit. 


And  the  same  thing  happened  the  very  next  day, 

At  about  the  very  same  bells, 

He  took  off  his  second  suit  so  gay, 

And  gave  it  to  somebody  else. 


So  it  happened  every  day  again, 
Till  he'd  rigged  us  all  from  his  store 
And  such  a  dandy  lot  of  men 
Were  never  in  a  ship  before. 


Then  we  never  had  any  scrimmages 
For  fear  of  spilin'  our  slops  : 
We  looked  like  the  graven  images 
Before  the  tailors'  shops. 


THE  WITCH'S  BOX  39 

But  a  man  named  Knox  from  Edinboro  toun, 
Always  took  the  thing  amiss, 
And  often  remarked  with  a  doubtful  frown  : 
"  There  is  something  eereligious  in  this  ! " 


So  one  day  when  our  friend  had  opened  his  box, 

Before  we  could  prevent, 

Up  behind  him  came  Mr.  Knox 

And  dropped  in  his  New  Testament. 

There  came  a  flash  of  lightning  bright, 

And  an  awful  thunder's  roar, 

And  the  box  and  the  sailor  went  clean  out  o'  sight, 

And  we  never  beheld  'em  more. 


And  all  to  ashes  and  all  to  wreck 
Went  our  clothes,  and  we  looked  forlorn, 
For  there  we  were  standing  on  the  deck 
As  naked  as  we  were  born ! 


40  THE   WITCH'S  BOX 

And  this  is  the  lesson  short  and  small, 
Which  we  learned  from  our  liberal  friend, 
That  the  things  which  cost  you  nothing  at  all 
Never  come  to  any  good  in  the  end. 


And  when  the  laugh  at  this  had  died  away, 

Mose  Brown  of  Bristol  in  the  whaling  line 

Said  :  "  Mermaids  are  the  witches  of  the  sea, 

Which  in  good  looks  are  really  superfine. 

And  on  this  subject  I  will  give  a  song, 

Which  I  daresay  you  all  already  know, 

But  anyway  it  isn't  very  long, 

Though  it  was  made  a  hundred  years  ago, 

I  guess  that  mermaids  were  much  plentier  then ; 

Perhaps  they're  scared  of  steamboats  and  the  swell 

Which  drives  the  fish  as  foxes  do  a  hen — 

So  like  the  steamers  I  will  now  propel." 


THE  MERMAID 

ONE  Friday  morning  we  set  sail 1 

It  was  not  far  from  land, 

When  I  espied  a  fair  mermaid, 

With  a  comb  and  a  glass  in  her  hand. 
Chorus.  And  the  raging  winds  do  blow,  blow,  blow, 
And  the  raging  winds  do  blow ; 
And  we  poor  sailors  climbing  up  aloft, 
And  the  land  lubbers  lying  down  below. 


Then  up  spoke  the  boy  of  our  gallant  ship 
And  a  well-spoken  boy  was  he  : 

1  There  may  be  a  few  readers  to  whom  it  is  necessary  to  point  out  that  this  first 
ballad  of  the  "Mermaid  "  is  an  old  song,  here  used  as  introduction  to  a  second  by 
me,  which  is  of  the  same  nature. 


42  THE  MERMAID 

"  I've  a  mother  and  father  in  London  town, 
And  this  night  they  will  weep  for  me." 


Then  up  spoke  the  captain  of  our  gallant  ship, 
And  a  well-spoken  man  was  he  : 
"  I've  a  wife  who  is  living  in  Liverpool  town, 
A  wife  whom  I  never  shall  see." 


"  My  wife  who  is  living  in  Liverpool  town 
This  night  will  be  looking  for  me ; 
She  may  look  till  the  sun  no  more  goes  down, 
She  may  look  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea." 


Then  three  times  around  went  our  gallant  ship, 
And  three  times  around  went  she ; 
And  three  times  around  was  the  end  of  her  trip, 
When  she  sank  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea." 


THE  MERMAN 

THEN  another  man  said  when  that  song  was  sung 
There  are  men  like  you  and  me, 
Who  will  sometimes  come  ashore  and  get  sprung, 
Yet  who  live  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 


For  I  myself  knew  one  of  that  folk 
(I  believe  he  still  lives  and  thrives), 
And  I'll  tell  you  the  truth  without  any  joke 
How  we  saved  one  another's  blest  lives. 


I  was  walking  one  night  in  New  York  town, 
And  the  moon  shone  bright  and  clear, 
When  I  thought  I  heard  a  singular  sound 
That  came  from  a  board-yard  near. 


44  THE  MERMAN 

First  was  a  groan  of  misery, 

And  then  a  scythe  of  pain ; 

And  a  voice  which  wailed  :  "  Oh  where  is  the  Sea  ? 

Which  I  never  shall  see  again  ?  " 


And  I  thought  that  party  must  be  cracked, 

Or  a  little  over  the  bay ; 

Because  the  water  was  not,  in  fact, 

A  half  of  a  mile  away. 


So  I  looked  that  sufferin'  mortal  up, 
And  found,  sufficiently  soon, 
A  man  who  looked  like  a  perishin'  pup, 
As  he  lay  in  the  light  of  the  moon. 


And  I  said  to  him,  "  Matey,  just  confess 
What  all  of  this  row's  about, 
And  what  was  it  got  you  into  this  mess, 
And  how  can  I  get  you  out  ?  " 


THE  MERMAN  45 


Then  this  man  he  opened  his  eyes  so  wide  : 
"  No  more  do  I  ask  of  thee 
Than  to  carry  me  down  to  the  water's  side, 
And  chuck  me  right  into  the  sea." 


And  I  says,  "  'Tis  a  singular  thing  to  ask, 
But  I  think  it  can  be  no  sin, 
And  anyhow  'tis  an  easy  task 
To  carry  and  pitch  you  in." 


So  I  picked  that  perishin'  person  up, 

And  slewed  him  on  my  back, 

And  he  wriggled  and  moved  with  many  a  flup 

Like  a  codfish  or  a  jack. 


But  when  I  had  carried  him  half  the  way, 
He  seemed  to  be  half-way  done, 
And  when  we  had  got  'longside  of  the  bay, 
I  guessed  that  his  life  was  gone. 


THE  MERMAN 

But  when  he  heard  the  water  splash, 

He  opened  his  eyes — you  bet ! 

And  said  :  "  If  you  only  will  make  a  dash — 

Good  Lord  !  there's  a  chance  for  me  yet !  " 


And  when  we  came  to  the  water's  edge, 
I  never  a  word  did  say, 

But  carried  him  right  to  the  end  of  the  Ledge, 
And  dumped  him  into  the  Bay. 


And  then  he  gin  a  yell  of  delight, 
And  then  he  warbled  a  tune, 
As  he  swam  about  in  the  water  bright, 
All  there  in  the  light  of  the  moon. 

And  he  hollered  to  me  his  partin'  thanks, 
And  said  :  "  I  am  outer  my  pain ; 
Good-bye  !  I'm  off  for  the  'Foundland  Banks ; 
Some  day  we  shall  meet  again." 


THE  MERMAN  47 


Now  when  a  year  had  passed  I  found 
Myself  in  a  Southern  sea, 
A-wrecked ;  for  all  on  board  were  drowned, 
And  nobody  saved  but  me. 


And  as  I  sat  upon  the  turf, 

And  looked  at  the  water  blue, 

A  man  came  walking  out  of  the  surf, 

And  says  to  me  :  "  How  do  you  do  ? 


"  I  think  you  don't  remember  me, 
Allow  me  to  let  you  know 
I'm  the  fellow  that  you  threw  into  the  sea- 
In  New  York — a  year  ago. 


"  My  home  is  down  in  the  Ocean  deep, 
And  sometimes — would  you  think  ? 
I  go  ashore  when  men  are  asleep 
To  a  tavern  to  take  a  drink. 


48  THE  MERMAN 

"  My  mother  was  a  mermaid  fair, 
She  lived  down  in  the  sea ; 
And  my  father  he  was  a  Dutch  sailor, 
So  it  came  that  I  am  what  I  be. 


"  And  I  can  walk  about  on  land 
Until  my  clothes  are  dry, 
But  that  brings  up  to  the  end  of  my  sand, 
For  then  I  must  surely  die : 


"And  my  soul  sail  off  for  Doldrum  Isle, 
Unless  some  one  pities  my  pain, 
And  carries  me  down  where  the  waters  bile, 
And  puts  me  in  'em  again. 


"  One  turn  deserves  another,  ahoy  ! 
And  John  must  settle  with  Jack ; 
You  treated  me  like  a  brother,  old  boy 
And  now  I  will  pay  you  back. 


THE  MERMAN  49 

"  In  this  bag  there  is  more  than  a  thousand  pound, 

And  I  give  it  all  to  you  : 

In  a  Spanish  galloon  that  money  I  found, 

(It's  a  thing  which  I  frequently  do). 

"  But  in  this  place  you'd  be  sure  to  spile, 
So  now  I  will  give  you  a  tip : 
Just  walk  to  the  other  side  of  this  isle, 
And  there  you  will  find  a  ship. 

» 

"  You'll  find  her  there  as  sure  as  you're  born ; 

Her  name  is  the  Clara  Belle^ 

She  sails  for  Havanna  in  the  morn, 

So,  matey — fare-you-well ! 

"  Farewell— for  here  I  cannot  bide." 
He  turned  his  back  to  the  shore, 
And  walked  right  into  the  risin'  tide, 
And  I  never  beheld  him  more. 
4 


50  THE  MERMAN 

So  we  never  should  doubt  of  a  mystery, 
There  are  lots  of  'em  round  us  still ; 
For  nobody  knows  what's  down  in  the  sea, 
And  nobody  ever  will. 


Said  Brown,  "  That  story  now  goes  home  to  me. 

Folks  say  a  witch,  a  wizard,  and  a  Finn, 

Are  all  jint  partners  in  all  deviltry, 

The  Devil  himself  of  course  bein'  counted  in ; 

And  of  these  Northern  conjurers  I  can  sing 

A  song  if  you  will  join  me  in  the  chorus. 

First  take  your  drinks — that  is  the  prudent  thing, 

We  never  know  in  life  what  lies  before  us." 

Which  having  done,  himself  he  did  begin 

The  wondrous  ballad  of  the  "  Wizard  Finn." 


THE   WIZARD   FINN 

As  I  suppose,  you  all  have  heard 

There's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board, 

I  can  tell  you  that  is  so. 

I've  sailed  with  one  and  I  ought  to  know : 

For  it  is  true,  upon  my  word, 

There's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board. 


Eric  Jansen  was  his  name, 
And  from  Christian'  he  came ; 
A  seemly  man  all  for  to  see, 
But  devil  a  bit  the  man  for  me  : 

For  it  is  true,  as  all  have  heard, 

There's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board. 


52  THE  WIZARD  FINN 

From  the  hour  he  joined  the  ship, 

All  went  wrong  in  all  the  trip ; 

'Twas  nothing  but  swear  and  growl  and  groan, 

And  the  weather  was  just  the  devil's  own  : 

You  may  reckon  it  all  absurd, 

But  there's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board. 


Our  grub  was  spoiled  from  that  first  hour, 
Except  the  vinegar  all  was  sour ; 
All  you  heard  was  Lubber  !  and  Liar  ! 
And  everything  hot  except  the  fire  : 

For  it  is  true,  as  all  accord, 

There's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board. 

For  as  the  doctors  all  do  know, 
A  Finn  has  fins  between  each  toe : 
He  is  web-footed  like  a  duck ; 
Which  is  the  cause  of  his  bad  luck : 

For  it  is  true,  as  I  averred, 

There's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board. 


THE  WIZARD  FINN  53 

And  when  at  last  it  got  so  bad, 

That  master  and  men  were  nigh  gone  mad, 

A  rummerin'  whisper  did  begin 

That  'twas  all  along  of  this  here  Finn  : 
For  it  is  true,  and  on  re-c6rd 
There's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board. 


And  the  long  and  short  of  this  debate 
Was  that  one  night  our  second  mate, 
Bein'  as  mad  as  a  man  might  be, 
Pitched  Eric  Jansen  into  the  sea : 

For  it  is  true,  unless  I've  erred, 

There's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board. 

When  all  at  once  around  there  came 

Over  the  sea  a  greenish  flame, 

And  the  biggest  whale  I  ever  spied, 

Rose  up  by  Eric  Jansen's  side  : 

For  it  is  true,  as  you  may've  inferred, 
There's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board. 


54  THE   WIZARD  FINN 

And  the  Finn  he  got  upon  the  whale, 
And  off  in  the  flame  we  saw  them  sail ; 
Hearing  a  song  as  they  fell  behind, 
Like  women  singing  with  the  wind : 

For  it  is  true,  as  all  have  concurred, 
There's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board. 


Off  from  the  ship  and  off  the  shore, 

And  Eric  Jansen  we  saw  no  more  ; 

But  from  that  hour,  aboard  that  ship, 

All  went  well  for  the  rest  of  the  trip  : 
For  it  is  true,  upon  my  word, 
As  you  and  I  have  often  heard, 
People  may  say  it's  all  absurd, 
And  yet  it  holds  as  I  averred, 
And  bein'  a  fact  it's  on  record, 
Unless  the  best  of  men  have  erred, 
As  you  may  truly  have  inferred, 
In  which  observers  have  concurred  : 
There's  no  good  luck  with  a  Finn  on  board. 


CHARLEY  BUFF  55 

"  That  story  of  the  Finn,"  said  one  to  Brown, 
"Is  of  the  kind  which  hev  been  salted  down, 
Which  is  the  reason,  I  suppose,  why  you 
Take  such  a  lot  of  pains  to  prove  it's  true. 
When  tales  are  c'rect  in  all  their  fitnesses, 
There  ain't  no  need  of  forty  witnesses, 
Nor  one  at  all  I  guess,  but  that's  enough  ; 
Now  listen  to  the  song  of  '  Charley  Buff/ 
Who  always  said,  '  I  am  a  truthful  man  : " 
He  polished  off  his  drink  and  thus  began  : 


CHARLEY   BUFF 

OH  Charley  Buff  was  his  parents'  joy, 

And  as  he  always  told, 
He  went  to  sea  as  a  cabin-boy 

Before  he  was  one  year  old. 


56  CHARLEY  BUFF 

Chorus.  Now  this  is  pretty  bad, 

But  it's  nothin'  to  what's  a-coming : 
Yet  Charley  he  was  a  truthful  lad, 
And  never  indulged  in  humming. 


And  this  Charley  Buff  allays  said  to  me  : 

"  To  lie  I  cannot  afford, 
For  you  know  I  hev  got  more  truth  in  me 

Than  all  of  the  rest  on  board. 


"  I  have  seen  in  the  isle  of  Barriboo 

Such  high-sized  coco-nuts, 
That  the  natives  used  to  split  'em  in  two 

And  use  'em  to  make  their  huts. 

"  I  hev  seen  the  Kanaka  women 

Foller  a  ship'n  full  sail, 
A  thousand  miles  a-swimmin' 

For  a  bottle  or  a  tenpenny  nail. 


CHARLEY  BUFF 

"  I  hev  seen  the  eggs  of  the  toodly-wang ; 

It's  a  bird  in  the  Muldive  Isles ; 
And  when  they  hatch  they  burst  with  a  bang 

You  can  hear  five  hundred  miles. 


"  From  a  Cariboo  king  named  Jocko, 

A  man  of  cheerful  life, 
For  only  a  fid  of  tobacco 

I  bought  me  a  beautiful  wife. 

"  One  night  she  was  gone,  by  gum  ! 

But  as  soon  as  ever  I  missed  her, 
From  the  king  for  a  glass  of  rum 

I  bought  her  younger  sister. 

"  One  evening  for  their  tea 

Her  family  broiled  and  ate  her ; 

'  Never  mind ! '  says  the  king  to  me, 
1  Just  go  and  pick  out  a  better.' " 


57 


58  CHARLE  Y  B UFF 

Chorus.  Now  this  is  pretty  bad, 

Yet  it's  nothin'  to  what's  a-coming ; 
But  I  hear  the  old  man  a  bawlin'  like  mad, 
So  I  guess  I  will  stop  my  humming. 


"  Wai,"  answered  Brown,  "  that  comes  it  rather  strong. 

Now  if  you  like  I'll  sing  a  pirate's  song 

Of  which  you  all  have  heard  at  times  a  bit ; 

I've  jined  'em  into  one  to  make  'em  fit, 

Like  beads  upon  a  string,  altho'  I  fear 

It's  partly  pirate  and  part  mutineer." 


BOLD   ROBIN   ROVER 

BOLD  Robin  Rover 

Said  to  his  crew  : 
"  Up  with  the  black  flag 

And  down  with  the  blue  ! 
Up  with  the  Black  Boy  ! 

All  men  to  show, 
Over  the  water 

And  off  let  us  go  ! " 


A  man-of-war  he  hailed  us  : 
"  Come  under  my  lee  ! " 

"See  you  damned,"  said  the  pirate, 
"  For  I'd  rather  sink  at  sea, 


60  BOLD  ROBIN  ROVER 

In  the  blue  water 
Far  out  and  free, 

Cruising  down  on  the  shore 
By  the  coast  of  Barbary." 


We  met  the  Flying  Dutchman, 

By  midnight  he  came, 
His  hull  was  all  of  hell  fire, 

His  sails  were  all  o'  flame ; 
Fire  on  the  main-top, 

Fire  on  the  bow, 
Fire  on  the  gun-deck, 

Fire  down  below ! 


Four-and-twenty  dead  men, 
Those  were  the  crew, 

The  devil  on  the  bowsprit 
Fiddled  as  she  flew. 


BOLD  ROBIN  ROVER  61 

We  gave  her  a  broadside 

Right  in  the  dip, 
Just  like  a  candle, 

Out  went  the  ship. 


We  met  a  gallant  vessel 

A-sailing  on  the  sea, 
For  mercy,  for  mercy, 

For  mercy,  she  did  plea ; 
But  the  mercy  we  gave  her 

We  sunk  her  in  the  sea ; 
Cruising  down  on  the  shore 

By  the  coast  of  Barbary, 


Four-and-twenty  Spaniards, 
Mighty  men  of  rank, 

With  their  golden  ladies 
Had  to  walk  the  plank, 


62  BOLD  ROBIN  ROVER 

Over  the  gunwale 

Into  the  sea, 
Cruising  down  on  the  shore, 

By  the  coast  of  Barbary. 


Oh  devil  take  the  captain  ! 

And  devil  take  the  ship  ! 
And  devil  take  the  cargo  ! 

And  devil  take  the  trip ! 
And  devil  take  the  bo'su'n  ! 

And  devil  take  his  call ! 
And  devil  take  the  doctor  ! 

And  devil  take  'em  all ! 


Over  the  quarter, 
Over  the  sail, 

Into  the  water, 
Dead  as  a  nail 


BOLD  ROBIN  ROVER  63 

Slung  like  a  biscuit, 

Hot  as  a  coal, 
Where  the  sharks  may  take  the  body, 

And  the  devil  take  the  soul ! 


Then  spoke  Grim  Sam  of  Jersey,  "  As  we've  heard 
A  mermaid  or  a  witch  is  the  same  bird, 
But  of  a  different  feather,  so  a  pirate, 
And  slaver,  is  all  one  for  guards  to  fire  at, 
For  pirates  kill  and  plunder  all  they  catch, 
And  slavers  at  the  same  are  just  their  match ; 
There  ain't  no  special  difference  (it  was  said 
That  Sam  himself  well  knew  the  Guinea  trade, 
And  half-way  to  the  devil  had  sent  his  soul 
By  running  into  Cuba  "  sacks  of  coal ") — 
And  then  he  sang  to  us  right  merrily 
A  slaver's  song,  which  was  not  writ  by  me. 


TIME  FOR  US  TO  GO 

WITH  sails  let  fall  and  sheeted  home,  and  clear  of  the  ground  were  we, 
We  passed  the  bank,  stood  round  the  light,  and  sailed  away  to  sea ; 
The  wind  was  fair  and  the  coast  was  clear,  and  the  brig  was  noways 

slow, 
For  she  was  built  in  Baltimore,  and  'twas  time  for  us  to  go. 

Time  for  us  to  go, 

Time  for  us  to  go, 
For  she  was  built  in  Baltimore,  and  'twas  time  for  us  to  go. 


A  quick  run  to  the  West  we  had,  and  when  we  made  the  Bight, 
We  kept  the  offing  all  day  long,  and  crossed  the  bar  at  night. 
Six  hundred  niggers  in  the  hold,  and  seventy  we  did  stow, 
And  when  we'd  clapped  the  hatches  on,  'twas  time  for  us  to  go. 


m  "UNIVERSITY 
TIME  FOR  US  TO  GO 


We  hadn't  been  three  days  at  sea  before  we  saw  a  sail, 
So  we  clapped  on  every  inch  she'd  stand,  although  it  blew  a  gale, 
And  we  walked  along  full  fourteen  knots,  for  the  barkie  she  did  know, 
As  well  as  ever  a  soul  on  board,  'twas  time  for  us  to  go. 


We  carried  away  the  royal  yards,  and  the  stun'sle  boom  was  gone, 
Says  the  skipper,  "They  may  go  or  stand;   I'm  darned  if  I   don't 

crook  on. 

So  the  weather  braces  we'll  round  in,  and  the  trys'le  set  also, 
And  we'll  keep  the  brig  three  p'ints  away,  for  it's  time  for  us  to  go." 

Oh  yard-arm  under  she  did  plunge  in  the  trough  of  the  deep  seas, 
And  her  masts  they  thrashed  about  like  whips  as  she  bowled  before  the 

breeze, 

And  every  yard  did  buckle  up  like  to  a  bending  bow, 
But  her  spars  were  tough  as  whalebone,  and  'twas  time  for  us  to  go. 


We  dropped  the  cruiser  in  the  night,  and  our  cargo  landed  we, 
And  ashore  we  went,  with  our  pockets  full  of  dollars,  on  the  spree. 


66  TIME  FOR  US  TO  GO 

And  when  the  liquor  it  is  out,  and  the  locker  it  is  low, 

Then  to  sea  again,  in  the  ebony  trade,  'twill  be  time  for  us  to  go. 

Time  for  us  to  go, 

Time  for  us  to  go, 
Then  to  sea  again,  in  the  ebony  trade,  'twill  be  time  for  us  to  go. 


"  Wall,"  said  Mose  Brown,  "  I  'low  that  that  escape 

From  the  derned  cruiser  was  a  blame  close  shave, 

And  I  myself  once  in  as  bad  a  scrape 

Was  lifted  out  by  one  big  thumping  wave 

On  the  same  line  of  coast — or  thereabout, 

Since  it  was  off  the  Bight — that's  old  Benin — 

Where  as  the  sayin'  is,  '  but  one'goes  out 

Of  all  a  hundred  strangers  who  go  in.' 

It  ain't  so  healthy  quite — to  be  exact — 

As  'tis  in  Colorado  high  and  dry, 

Where  they  send  invalids — it  is  a  fact — 

Off  to  some  other  country  for  to  die ; 

Excuse  me,  gents,  for  keepin'  you  so  long, 

Now  I'll  proceed  to  let  you  hev  my  song." 


ROLLING  OVER1 

IT  was  upon  a  Boston  brig,  and  that  was  in  the  Fall, 
Our  barky  she  was  light  as  a  gig,  for  our  lading  was  but  small ; 
And  it  was  in  the  American  War  as  we  were  sailing  thus, 
When  we  saw  a  steamer  from  afar,  and  knew  she  was  after  us. 
Chorus.  Rolling  over,  rolling  over,  rolling  on. 

The  roaring  waves  they  came, 

Like  water  into  fire  all  gone, 

For  the  sea  was  all  of  a  flame. 


Now  I  have  often  seen  by  dark  the  sea  a-burning  bright, 
But  nothing  did  I  yet  remark  like  what  it  was  that  night, 

1  This  ballad  was  very  much  revised,  corrected,  turned  over,  and  re-turned,  by 
sundry  old  sailors,  chief  among  whom  was  the  ancient  mariner,  Captain  Stead. 
Almost  the  same  could  be  said  of  all  these  songs,  but  this  one  was  specially  "cut  up 
and  salted  down  for  sea  use." 


68  ROLLING  OVER 

And  the  wake  we  left  behind  us  as  we  sailed  for  many  an  hour, 
Was  like  a  fiery  serpent  who  was  chasing  to  devour. 


And  then  the  captain  made  a  speech  to  us  a-standing  round, 

And  said :  "'Fore  I'll  be  taken  I'll  be  damned  if  I  don't  be  drowned ; 

Yet  if  you  will  be  plucky,  men,  and  likewise  well  behaved, 

We've  got  one  chance  in  a  thousand  yet,  but  what  we  may  be  saved. 


"  About  ten  miles  to  leeward  there  lies  the  Guinea  land, 
And  for  fifty  miles  before  it  clear  a  narrow  bar  of  sand ; 
And  if  we  find  a  deepish  place — as  such  of  them  there  are — 
It  just  is  barely  possible  that  we  may  clear  the  bar." 


Then  we  gave  three  cheers  for  our  old  man  because  we  liked  his  dash, 
And  allowed  ere  we'd  go  to  prison  that  we  all  would  go  to  smash ; 
So  then  we  set  the  wheel  up  with  the  steamer  coming  down, 
And  never  a  man  did  care  a  damn  if  he  was  going  to  drown. 


ROLLING  OVER  69 

Now  as  we  came  unto  the  bar  I  happened  to  remark 
A  spot  among  the  waves  on  which  the  water  it  was  dark ; 
And  I  showed  it  to  the  captain,  who  saw  the  place  was  fit, 
And  hollered  to  the  helmsman  to  steer  her  straight  for  it. 


Now  just  as  we  were  working  to  this  very  closest  shave, 

There  came  by  Heaven's  mercy  a  tremendous  booming  wave, 

Which  gave  the  barky  such  a  lift,  thanks  to  our  lucky  star, 

That  though  we  felt  the  bottom  scrape — by  God  we  crossed  the  bar ! 


And  as  we  came  in  the  still  water  we  gave  three  roaring  cheers, 
For  the  rebel  he  was  locked  outside — of  him  we  had  no  fears ; 
But  I  never  shall  forget  until  I  come  unto  my  grave, 
How  we  were  saved  on  the  Guinea  coast  by  the  sea-light  and  the  wave. 
Chorus.  Rolling  over,  rolling  over,  rolling  on. 

The  roaring  waves  they  came, 

Like  water  into  fire  all  gone, 

For  the  sea  was  all  of  a  flame. 


70  ROLLING  OVER 

Quoth  Nat  of  Stonington,  "  That  is  a  bruiser, 
And  yet  I  know  darn'd  well  it  could  be  done 
With  the  third  wave — but  talking  of  a  cruiser, 
I  know  a  song — 'tis  just  a  little  one — 
But  first  I  would  observe  that  a  muskeeter 
Is  not  an  insect,  for  as  you  should  know 
The  term's  applied  unto  a  different  creeter, 
Which  sails  about  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
Sometimes  the  thing  is  called  a  guard-accoster^ 
And  when  one  did  accost  us  with  a  gun, 
Out  of  the  way  we  ginerally  tost  her  ; 
It  ain't  hard  work  to  make  a  greaser  run. 
Well,  that'll  do.     We  got  a  song  before  us, 
And  them  as  likes  may  holler  in  the  chorus." 

1  Guarda  Costa. 


THE  MUSQUITO 

SAID  Paul  unto  Peter, 
"  I  see  a  muskeeter, 

The  boat's  coming  over  the  bay." 
Said  Peter  to  Paul, 
"  She  is  saucy,  though  small, 

And  the  captain  is  sailing  away." 


Said  Paul  unto  Peter, 

"  Confound  the  old  creetur, 

The  boat's  coming  over  the  bay." 
Said  Peter  to  Paul, 
"  We  will  soon  make  her  squall, 

And  the  captain  is  sailing  away." 


72  THE  MUS QUITO 

Said  Paul  unto  Peter, 

"  We'll  bang  her  and  beat  her  ! 

The  boat's  coming  over  the  bay." 
Said  Peter  to  Paul, 
"  Set  stun'sles  and  all, 

And  the  captain  is  sailing  away." 

Said  Paul  unto  Peter, 

"  We'll  give  her  short  metre, 

The  boat's  coming  over  the  bay." 
Said  Peter  to  Paul, 
"  Give  her  powder  and  ball, 

And  the  captain  is  sailing  away." 


Said  Paul  unto  Peter, 

"  We'll  roast  her  and  eat  her, 

The  boat's  coming  over  the  bay." 
Said  Peter  to  Paul, 
"  We  will  gobble  them  all, 

And  the  captain  is  sailing  away  !  " 


STAND  FROM  UNDER  /  73 

"  Now,  'fore  we  fairly  get  into  the  Gulf," 

Said  Saltonstall,  "  and  fall  into  its  tide, 

Which  swallows  up  so  many  like  a  wolf, 

111  sing  a  song  about  a  place  outside, 

Where  a  thing  once  took  place  which  was  a  wonder — 

I  mean  the  story  of  c  Old  Stand  from  Under.' " 


STAND    FROM    UNDER! 

I  WAS  sailing  in  a  vessel  a  long  time  ago, 
All  the  while  dead  against  us  the  wind  used  to  blow, 
And  it  seemed  as  if  aboard  us  that  nothing  would  go  right, 
When  over  the  Bahamas  a-sailing  by  the  night. 
Chorus.   By  the  night,  by  the  night, 

When  over  the  Bahamas  a-sailing  by  the  night. 

In  the  dark,  up  in  the  rigging,  or  somewhere  on  high, 
"  Hallo  !     Stand  from  under  ! "  a  voice  used  to  cry  ; 


74  STAND  FROM  UNDER/ 

But  the  Being  who  hallooed  it  was  always  out  of  sight, 
When  over  the  Bahamas  a-sailing  by  the  night. 


On  that  gloomy  haunted  vessel,  and  all  among  her  crew, 

Was  a  dark  and  silent  sailor  whom  no  one  ever  knew; 

And  the  Voice  it  called  the  loudest  when  that  seaman  came  to  light, 

When  over  the  Bahamas  a-sailing  by  the  night. 


And  we  said  to  him  one  midnight  when  we  heard  it  worst  of  all, 
"  Your  friend  there  in  the  rigging  is  giving  you  a  call." 
Then  he  looked  up  above  him  with  such  bitterness  and  spite, 
When  over  the  Bahama  Isles  a-sailing  by  the  night. 


When  the  Voice  with  "  Stand  from  under ! "  once  again  to  him  salamed, 
He  hallooed  back  like  thunder :  "  Let  go  then  and  be  damned  ! " 
Like  a  man  in  desperation  who  expects  a  cruel  fight, 
All  over  the  Bahamas  a-sailing  by  the  night. 


STAND  FROM  UNDER  !  75 

And  as  the  word  was  spoken — like  coming  to  a  beck — 
A  something  came  a-whizzing  and  fell  down  upon  the  deck, 
And  the  body  of  a  mariner  was  there  before  our  sight, 
All  over  the  Bahama  Isles  a-sailing  by  the  night. 


And  looking  at  the  dead  man,  he  said  :  "  I  do  declare  ! 

An  hour's  sail  from  Cuba  I  stabbed  that  fellow  there. 

And  now  he  always  haunts  me,  though  I  killed  him  fair,  in  fight, 

All  over  the  Bahama  Isles  a-sailing  by  the  night." 


"  But  the  devil  a  bit  of  fear  have  I  of  dead  or  living  men, 
I've  lifted  him  before  and  I  can  lift  him  up  again, 
And  pitch  him  in  the  water,  and  sink  him  out  of  sight, 
All  over  the  Bahamas  a-sailing  by  the  night." 


He  grappled  with  the  dead  man  in  spite  of  all  our  cries, 
When  life  and  awful  anger  came  in  the  corpse's  eyes ; 
It  tore  him  to  the  toffrail  and  held  him  deadly  tight, 
All  over  the  Bahama  Isles  a-sailing  by  the  night. 


76  STAND  FROM  UNDER! 

And  overboard  together  in  a  grapple  went  the  two, 
And  downward  sunk  before  us  into  the  water  blue ; 
But  in  and  all  around  them  shone  a  corpo-santo  light, 
All  over  the  Bahama  Isles  a-sailing  by  the  night. 


But  from  that  very  minute  the  wind  blue  well  and  fair, 
And  everything  went  right  with  us  when  we  had  lost  the  pair 
But  I  always  shall  remember  while  I  live  that  awful  sight, 
All  over  the  Bahama  Isles  a-sailing  by  the  night. 


"  Now  that  we're  gittin'  t'wards  the  Spanish  Strand," 

Said  Moses  Brown,  a-waving  his  bandana, 

"  I  just  propose  that  first  of  all  I  land — 

As  all  of  us  have  done — at  the  'old  Havanna. 

Adventures  there  do  gin'rally  abound, 

The  natives  being  all  sus-ceptive  creeters; 

For  if  romance  upon  this  airth  is  found, 

It  sartinly  is  'mong  the  senoritas. 

Though  he  who  of  'em  would  advantage  take, 


NEAR  HA  VANNA  77 

Must  be  on  hand  and  al'ays  wide  awake  : 

Quien  el  diablo  ha  de  engaiiar 

Manana  ha  bien  de  levantar. 

Meanin'  that  "  who  the  devil  would  deceive, 

Must  rise  uncommon  early,"  I  believe. 

That  is  the  precious  time  to  pick  a  salad, 

As  happened  to  the  fellow  in  my  ballad ; 

Who  carried  off  the  booty,  as  the  Fox 

Took  the  fair  Hen  from  the  two  fighting  Cocks. 


NEAR  HAVANNA 

IT  was  down  near  Havanna  town,  ho  ! 

It  was  down  near  Havanna  town,  low, 
That  I  saw  a  mortal  fight, 
At  the  coming  on  of  night, 

By  the  starlight  a  long  time  ago. 


78  NEAR  HA  VANNA 

Two  Spaniards  were  a-fighting  for  their  lives, 
The  blades  flashed  like  lightning  up  and  down 

To  the  click  and  the  clock  of  the  knives. 
And  there  stood  a  lady  looking  on. 


I  asked  her  the  cause  of  the  fray, 

And  she  answered  in  Spanish  :  "  Oh  see  ! 
They  are  villains  who  carried  me  away, 

And  now  they  are  righting  for  me." 


And  I  said  as  I  looked  at  her  face 

That  I  hardly  could  blame  such  a  theft, 

"  But  I'll  wait  until  one  gets  his  grace, 

Then  I'll  tackle  with  the  other  who  is  left." 


But  just  as  I  spoke,  with  a  start, 
The  two  leapt  and  fell  on  the  sand, 

For  both  had  been  stabbed  to  the  heart 
And  each  had  his  death  out  of  hand. 


NEAR  HA  VANNA  79 

So  I  and  the  donna  were  friends, 

And  that  of  the  kindest  and  best ; 
Now  here  this  true  history  ends, 

And  you  must  imagine  the  rest. 


And  'twas  all  near  Havanna  town,  ho ! 

It  was  down  by  Havanna  town,  low, 
That  I  saw  this  mortal  fight, 
At  the  coming  on  of  night, 

By  the  starlight  a  long  time  ago. 


There  sat  a  stranger  there  whom  no  one  knew. 
Who  did  not  seem  a  follower  of  the  sea, 
And  yet  no  stranger  surely  to  the  Blue, 
Who  now  politely  spoke  the  company, 
Saying  unto  them  :  "  Mates,  'tween  you  and  me, 
I  put  it  as  a  question — don't  you  think 
That  it  is  pretty  near  time  to  take  a  drink  ? 
And  if  you  do  belong  to  Gideon's  Band, 


So  THE  THREE  DEAD  MEN 

Then  here's  my  purse  to  pay — and  here's  my  hand  " — 

There  was  a  roar  of  laughter  loud  and  long, 

And  then  the  stranger  burst  into  a  song ; 

But  for  a  minute  were  they  all  so  gay, 

For  with  the  words  their  laughter  died  away. 


THE   THREE   DEAD   MEN 
Los  tres  Muertos 

EVER  so  far  and  far  away, 

Down  in  the  hollow  by  the  bay, 

Where  the  beach  is  dry  and  the  rocks  are  high, 

Under  the  sand  three  dead  men  lie. 

There  they  lie  alow,  low,  low, 

Nor  hear  the  cockrel's  crow. 
Where  the  palm-trees  are  a-growing,  and  the  wind  is  ever  blowing, 

There  they  lie  alow,  low,  low. 


THE  THREE  DEAD  MEN  81 

One  was  drowned  in  yonder  sea, 
One  was  shot  as  it  may  be, 
One  was  left  on  the  beach  to  die, 
But  all  in  the  hollow  sleeping  lie. 

There  they  lie  alow,  low,  low, 

Nor  wake  at  the  cockrel's  crow. 
Where  the  palm-trees  are  a-growing,  and  the  wind  is  ever  blowing, 

There  they  lie  alow,  low,  low. 

Sometimes  when  the  moon  is  bright 
You  can  see  the  three,  like  gulls  in  flight, 
Flitting  along  above  the  waves, 
Or  sitting  and  talking  on  their  graves, 

Where  they  lie  alow,  low,  low, 

Nor  hear  the  cockrel's  crow. 
Where  the  palm-trees  are  a-growing,  and  the  wind  is  ever  blowing, 

There  they  lie  alow,  low,  low. 

There  was  a  pause — when  some  one  merrily 

Struck  up  a  song  which  all  have  known  of  old  ; 
6 


82  THE  LADY-SAILOR 

How  Billy  Taylor's  sweetheart  went  to  sea, 
And  how  she  fought  in  an  engagement  bold : 
And  as  the  talk  ran  on  of  female  sailors 
Who've  gone  to  sea  in  men-of-war,  or  whalers, 
Until  I  spoke  and  said :  "I  know  a  lay 
About  a  Spanish  lady,  old  lang  syne, 
Who,  as  a  sailor,  wished  to  sail  away — 
The  words  are  by  another  and  not  mine  :  " 


THE   LADY- SAILOR1 

I'LL  go  in  yon  boat,  my  mother, 
Oh  yes  !  in  yon  boat  I'll  go ; 
I'll  go  with  the  mariner,  mother, 
And  I'll  be  a  mariner  too. 

1  Irme  quiero,  madre, 
En  aquella  galera 
Con  el  marinero 
For  ser  marinera. 


THE  LADY-SAILOR  83 

Ay,  ay,  ay,  verdadero, 
Ay,  ay,  con  el  marinero  ! 
And  I'll  be  a  mariner  too  ! 


Mother,  there's  no  refusing, 
What  true  love  demands  I  must  do ; 
In  love  there's  no  picking  and  choosing, 
So  I'll  be  a  mariner  too. 

Ay,  ay,  verdadero, 

Ay,  ay,  con  el  marinero, 
And  I'll  be  a  mariner  too  ! 


"  I  like  those  Spanish  songs,"  the  stranger  said  : 
"  Many  I've  heard  and  many  I  have  read, 
And  if  you  like  I'll  give  you  one  in  rhyme, 
By  Gil  Vincente  of  the  oldest  time, 
Which  holds  its  own,  and  bravely,  one  may  say, 
For  Spanish  sailors  sing  it  to  this  day." 


THE   SPANISH   SAILOR'S   SONG 

IF  you're  sleeping,  my  dear, 
Wake  and  open  to  me ! 
For  the  hour  is  at  hand 
When  afar  we  must  flee. 


If  your  white  feet  are  bare 
Still  no  longer  delay ; 
For  deep  are  the  waters 
Which  roll  in  our  way. 


The  waters  so  deep 
Of  the  Guadalquivir ; 


THE  SPANISH  SAILOR'S  SONG  85 

The  hour  is  at  hand, 

We  must  wander,  my  dear.1 


'Tis  strange,  he  added,  how  our  land,  in  truth, 

As  it  goes  Southward  seems  to  turn  to  youth, 

And  with  a  softer  sun  all  words  are  sung  — 

As  things  are  warmed  —  into  the  Spanish  tongue  : 

I've  given  you  a  song,  let's  have  another  ; 

"Well,  I  know  one,"  I  said,  "which  seems  its  brother, 

Although,  compared  to  yours,  it's  nearer  zero, 

In  Spanish,  Digas  tu  el  marinero  /  " 


1  Si  dormis, 
Despertad  y  abrid, 
Que  venida  es  la  hora, 
Si  quereis  partir. 

Si  descalza  estais 
No  querais  calzar, 
Que  muchas  las  aquas 
Teneis  de  pasar  — 

Las  aguas  tan  Hondas 
De  Guadalquivir  ; 
Que  venida  es  la  hora 
Si  teneis  partir. 


THE   LOVER   TO   THE   SAILOR 

Now  tell  me  this,  my  sailor  boy, 

As  sure  as  you  love  your  wine, 
Oh  did  you  ever  see  a  ship 

As  trim  as  that  girl  of  mine  ? 

And  you  who've  been  in  many  a  gale, 

And  stood  on  many  a  deck  ; 
Oh  did  you  ever  see  a  sail 

As  white  as  my  true  love's  neck  ? 

And  you  who  have  been  where  the  red  rose  blows 

In  many  a  Southern  place, 
Oh  did  you  ever  see  a  rose 

Like  those  in  my  sweetheart's  face  ? 


GREEN  CORN  AND  POT  A  TOES  87 

Here's  a  cheer  for  the  women  with  jet  black  curls, 

Of  Spain  or  of  Portugal ! 
And  seven  for  the  Yankee  and  English  girls, 

The  prettiest  of  them  all ! 


"  Wall  now,"  cried  Jones,  "  I  railly  must  admit, 
Them  Spanish  songs  of  yourn  hev  taste  and  wit ; 
But  as  I'm  gettin'  hungry,  what  is  upper 
In  me  just  now  is  that  I  want  my  supper ; 
And  while  it's  cookin',  till  they  bring  the  tub, 
I'll  sing  you  how  a  sailor  lost  his  grub." 


GREEN   CORN   AND   POTATOES 

OH  I  once  was  in  love  like  a  sinner, 
And  the  girl  she  was  hahn'some  and  tall, 
She  said  she  would  cook  me  a  dinner 
Of  corn  and  potatoes  and  all. 


88  GREEN  CORN  AND  POTATOES 

In  a  pot  she  put  ham  and  potatoes, 
One  chicken,  and  that  not  too  small ; 
With  gumbos  and  good  red  tomatoes, 
And  beans  and  some  oysters  and  all. 


On  a  rock  by  the  river  she  cooked  it, 
When  there  came  up  a  devil  of  a  squall ; 
And  into  the  water  it  hooked  it, 
With  the  corn  and  potatoes  and  all. 

The  ham  and  the  beans  and  potatoes 
All  went  in  that  devil  of  a  squall, 
With  the  chicken  and  big  red  tomatoes, 
And  carrots  and  oysters  and  all. 

Then  hurrah,  boys  !      Hurrah  for  the  Union  ! 
And  the  banner  which  waves  from  the  wall ; 
Likewise  for  the  parsnip  and  onion, 
Green  corn  and  potatoes  and  all ! 


GREEN  CORN  AND  POTATOES 

The  gumbos,  the  greens,  and  the  carrots — 
Likewise  for  the  monkeys  and  parrots, 
And  corn  and  potatoes  and  all ! 


Here  John  of  Baltimore  spoke  out :   said  he — 

"  Mates,  you  must  know  I'm  goin'  to  leave  the  sea ; 

I've  had  a  fortune  left  me,  as  I  learn, 

So  now  I  guess  I  give  the  land  a  turn. 

I  am  not  one  who  a  sea-life  belittles, 

But  do  confess  I  cannot  stand  the  vittles  : 

You  may  correct  me  if  you  think  I'm  wrong ; 

But  first  I'll  give  my  sentiments  in  song  : " 


THE   SAILOR'S   FAREWELL 

HARD  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 
For  I  am  going  home, 
To  keep  me  warm  and  dry, 
No  more  on  the  seas  to  roam. 

Roast  beef  and  turkey  free, 
And  likewise  chicken-pie, 
Salt  junk — farewell  to  thee ! 
Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 

I'm  going  to  the  land 

Where  ham  and  eggs  they  fry ; 

Veal  cutlets  are  on  hand ; 

Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 


THE  SAILOR'S  FAREWELL  91 

Roast  duck  doth  there  abound, 
And  mince  and  apple-pie 
In  stacks  is  lyin'  round ; 
Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 


I  smell  the  rich  roast  goose, 

A  second  slice  I'll  try ; 

A  third  I  shan't  refuse ; 

Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 


Planked  shad  is  very  fine ; 
I'm  in  for  living  high, 
On  terrapins  with  wine ; 
Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 


I  seek  my  native  soil, 
For  soft-shell  crabs  I  sigh, 
And  oysters  on  the  broil ; 
Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 


92  THE  SAILOR'S  FAREWELL 

Unto  the  canvas-back 

Myself  I  will  apply, 

And  hickory  nuts  I'll  crack ; 

Of  chinquapins  no  lack ; 

Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 

The  buckwheat-cake  shall  boom, 
The  Jersey  sausage  fry  • 
Amid  green  corn  I'll  bloom, 
And  hominy  consume ; 
Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 

I  see  the  cranberry  sauce, 
All  with  my  mental  eye  ; 
Plum-pudding  I  will  boss ; 
Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 

Venison  on  chafing-dish, 
With  jelly,  by  the  bye, 


THE  SAILOR'S  FAREWELL  93 

Coffee  and  fresh  cat-fish ; 

Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 


I'll  soon  be  on  the  strand 
Where  luscious  reed  birds  fly ; 
My  own — my  Maryland — 
Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 


Old  Ocean  with  thy  foam, 

For  thee  no  more  I  sigh ; 

For  I  am  going  home  ! 

Hard  tack  and  cheese,  good-bye  ! 


"  That  bill  o'  fare,"  cried  Abner  Chapin,  loud, 
"  Is  pitched  too  high  for  this  here  Northern  crowd : 
New  England  rum,  I  spose,  seems  rather  meek 
'Longside  peach-brandy  down  in  Chesapeake. 


94  MACKEREL  SIGNS 

I  don't  de-cry  your  vittles,  by  no  means, 

But  I  prefer  a  pot  of  pork  and  beans 

To  all  the  canvas-backs  that  ever  flew, 

With  soft-shell  crabs  and  reed  birds  thereunto. 

And  all  burnt  offerins  of  fries  of  lambs 

Ain't  worth  a  dish  of  good  Rhode  Island  clams ; 

And  all  your  Spanish  mackerel,  my  man, 

Worth  one  good  mackerel  caught  off  Cape  Ann  !  " 

"  Talkin'  of  mackerel  "—Here  Peter  Young 

Broke  off  this  sermon  with  the  "  Mackerel  Song." 


MACKEREL   SIGNS 

MACKEREL  clouds  and  mares'  tails 

A-sailing,  a-trailing, 
Make  lofty  ships  carry  low  sails 

A-sailing,  a-trailing  away. 


MACKEREL  SIGNS  95 

When  the  mack'rel  are  in  the  sky, 

A-sailing,  a-trailing; 
Soon  the  wind  will  be  blowing  high : 

A-sailing  and  trailing  away. 


When  the  mack'rel  shine  in  the  moon, 

A-sailing,  a-trailing ; 
Then  the  wind  will  begin  to  tune  : 

A-sailing,  a-trailing  away. 


Of  all  the  wind  upon  the  seas, 

A-sailing,  a-trailing; 
The  best  is  an  evening  mackerel  breeze 

A-sailing  and  trailing  away. 


"  A  mackerel  is  a  sailor-dish," 
Said  Jones,  "  for  'tis  a  sailor  fish, 
All  drest,  like  us,  in  white  and  blue, 


96  TRUE  BLUE 

Which  I  do  call  the  prettiest  hue 
Which  the  great  heaven  has  to  show 
Of  all  the  colours  in  the  bow  : 
So,  if  you  please,  I'll  sing  to  you 
A  little  song  about  the  Blue  ! " 


TRUE  BLUE 

BLUE  is  the  sea  we  sail  on, 
And  blue  is  the  sky  above, 

And  blue  are  the  eyes 

As  sea  or  skies 
Of  the  maiden  whom  I  love  : 
And  blue  is  the  flag  we're  under, 
And  blue  is  the  coat  I  wear ; 

But  brighter  the  blue, 

And  deeper  the  hue 


TRUE  BLUE  97 

In  the  eyes  which  I  hold  so  dear ! 
Bluer  and  brighter  and  sweeter, 
Fonder  and  fair  and  as  true ; 
Oh  it's  blue  love  and  true  love  for  ever ! 
And  God  bless  the  beautiful  blue  ! 


Now  supper  being  over,  every  man 

Lighted  his  pipe  or  called  for  a  cigar, 

Lolled  in  his  chair — and  all  again  began 

To  order  "  something  lively  "  from  the  bar. 

Jack  Saltonstall,  intent  on  keeping  peace, 

Waved  a  great  South  Sea  club,  and  said,  "  I'm  sent 

By  Providence  to  act  as  your  police ; " 

And  at  the  table  sat  as  President. 

He  was  a  man  of  pleasing  dignity, 

And  all  allowed  he  would  a  captain  be, 

Calming  all  quarrels  with  a  word  and  wink ; 

He  had  hot  rum  and  lemon  for  his  drink. 

And  as  he  sat  in  state,  with  the  club  of  peace 

Which  he  had  taken  from  the  chimney-piece, 
7 


98  TRUE  BLUE 

He  said  to  us  :  "  What  tales  this  bat  could  tell 
Of  many  a  battle — many  a  busted  shell, 
And  murdered  victims  by  the  surfy  shore, 
And  cani-bally  feasts  when  all  was  o'er ! " 

Quoth  Sam  of  Jersey,  "  I  hev  seen  such  things 
Among  them  natives,  ordered  by  their  kings, 
As  well  might  make  a  common  pirate  weep, 
And  the  old  devil  feel  uncommon  cheap  : 
Such  derned,  infernal  deeds,  and  parst  all  showin', 
Pirates  and  slavers  ain't  the  worst  folk  goin'. 
There's  things  to  which  the  worst  they  do  is  slow ; 
I've  lived  among  'em  an  I  ort  to  know. 
And  yet  among  those  natives  there  are  some 
As  mild  as  lambs,  and  good  and  humoursome ; 
Who  never  fight  no  more  than  an  old  hen, 
Such  difference  there  is  in  mortal  men. 
I'll  tell  you  now  a  tale,  to  make  you  sport, 
Of  one  who  chanced  among  this  gentle  sort. 


THE  STORY  OF  SAMUEL  JACKSON 

I'LL  tell  you  of  a  sailor  now,  a  tale  that  can't  be  beat, 
His  name  was  Samuel  Jackson,  and  his  height  was  seven  feet ; 
And  how  this  man  was  shipwrecked  in  the  far  Pacific  Isles, 
And  of  the  heathen  natives  with  their  suppositious l  wiles. 


Now  when  the  others  cut  the  ship,  because  she  was  a  wreck, 
They  left  this  Samuel  Jackson  there,  a-standin'  on  the  deck — 
That  is,  a  standin'  on  the  deck,  while  sittin'  on  the  boom ; 
They  wouldn't  let  him  in  the  boat  'cos  he  took  up  too  much  room. 


When  up  there  came  a  tilted  wave,  and  like  a  horse  it  romped, 
It  fell  like  mountains  on  the  boat,  and  so  the  boat  was  swamped ; 

1  Vide  Appendix. 


ioo  THE  STORY  OF  SAMUEL  JACKSON 

And  of  those  selfish  mariners  full  every  one  was  drowned, 
While  Samuel,  standing  on  the  deck,  beheld  it  safe  and  sound. 


Now  when  the  sea  grew  soft  and  still,  and  all  the  gale  was  o'er, 
Sam  Jackson  made  himself  a  raft,  and  paddled  safe  ashore. 
For  fear  of  fatal  accidents — not  knowin'  what  might  come, 
He  took  a  gun  and  matches,  with  a  prudent  cask  of  rum. 


Now  this  island  where  he  landed  proved  as  merry  as  a  fife, 
For  its  indigents  had  ne'er  beheld  a  white  man  in  their  life ; 
Such  incidents  as  rum  and  guns  they  never  yet  had  seen, 
And  likewise,  in  religion,  they  were  awful  jolly  green. 


But  they  had  a  dim  tradition,  from  their  ancestors,  in  course, 
Which  they  had  somehow  derived  from  a  very  ancient  source : 
How  that  a  god  would  come  to  them,  and  set  the  island  right ; 
And  how  he  should  be  orful  tall,  and  likewise  pearly  white. 


THE  STORY  OF  SAMUEL  JACKSON  101 

Now  when  they  saw  this  Samuel  approachin'  on  his  raft, 
The  news  through  all  the  island  shades  was  quickly  telegrapht, 
How  all  their  tribulations  would  speedily  be  past, 
'Cos  the  long-expected  sucker  was  invadin'  'em  at  last. 


Now  when  Sam  Jackson  stept  ashore,  as  modest  as  you  please, 
Nine  thousand  bloomin'  savages  received  him  on  their  knees ; 
He  looked  around  in  wonderment,  regardin'  it  as  odd, 
Not  bein'  much  accustomed  to  be  worshipped  as  a  god. 


But  he  twigged  the  situation,  and  with  a  pleasin'  smile 
Stretched  out  his  hands,  a-blessin'  all  the  natives  of  the  isle ; 
He  did  it  well,  although  his  paws  were  bigger  than  a  pan, 
Because  he  was  habitual  a  most  politeful  man. 


So  to  return  their  manners,  and  nary-wise  for  fun, 

He  raised  himself  with  dignity,  and  then  fired  off  his  gun : 

So  all  allowed  that  he  must  be  one  of  the  heavenly  chaps, 

Since  he  went  about  with  lightning  and  dispensed  with  thunderclaps. 


102  THE  STORY  OF  SAMUEL  JACKSON 

They  took  him  on  their  shoulders,  and  he  let  it  go  for  good, 

And  went  into  their  city  in  the  which  a  temple  stood, 

And  sot  him  on  the  altar,  and  made  him  their  salams, 

And  brought  him  pleasant  coco-nuts,  with  chickens,  po  and  yams. 


And  from  that  day  henceforward,  in  a  captivating  style, 
He  relegated,  as  he  pleased,  the  natives  of  that  isle ; 
And  when  an  unbeliever  rose — as  now  and  then  were  some, 
He  cured  their  irreligion  with  a  little  taste  of  rum. 


He  settled  all  their  business,  and  he  did  it  very  well, 

So  everything  went  booming  like  a  blessed  wedding  bell ; 

Eleven  lovely  feminines  attended  to  his  wants, 

And  a  guard  of  honour  followed  him  to  all  his  usual  haunts. 


Now  what  mortal  men  are  made  of,  that  they  can't  put  up  with  bliss, 

I  do  not  know,  but  this  I  know,  that  Sam  got  tired  of  this ; 

He  wished  that  he  was  far  away,  again  aboard  a  ship, 

And  all  he  thought  of — night  and  day — was  givin'  'em  the  slip. 


THE  STORY  OF  SAMUEL  JACKSON  103 

And  so  one  night  when  all  was  still  and  every  soul  asleep, 
He  got  into  a  good  canoe  and  paddled  o'er  the  deep, 
But  oh  the  row  the  natives  made,  when  early  in  the  morn 
They  came  to  worship  Samuel,  and  found  their  god  was  gone ! 


Then  Samuel  travelled  many  days,  but  had  the  luck  at  last 
To  meet  a  brig  from  Boston  where  he  shipped  before  the  mast ; 
And  he  gave  it  as  his  sentiments,  and  no  one  thought  it  odd, 
He  was  better  off  as  sailor  than  when  sailing  as  a  god. 


Now  many  years  had  flown  away  when  Samuel  was  forgot, 
There  came  a  ship  for  pearl  shell  unto  that  lonely  spot ; 
They  went  into  the  temple,  and  what  do  you  suppose 
They  found  the  natives  worshipping — a  suit  of  Samuel's  clothes  ! 


And  this  was  the  tradition  of  the  people  of  the  soil, 

How  once  a  great  divinity  had  ruled  upon  their  isle ; 

Four  fathom  tall,  with  eyes  like  fire,  and  such  was  their  believin', 

One  night  he  got  upon  the  moon — and  sailed  away  to  Heaven  ! 


104  THE  DANDY  SHIP 

"Wall,  it's  a  fact,"  cried  Doolittle,  "  I'll  swear 

A  rover  ain't  contented  anywhere ; 

But  if  he  is  a  real  sailor  slip, 

He's  happiest  on  the  hull — aboard  a  ship — 

For  there  at  times  he  has  his  tallest  fun, 

Especially  if  'tis  a  dandy  one 

Where  all  is  fine — O  mateys,  that's  the  thing  ! " 

He  raised  his  voice,  and  thus  began  to  sing : 

(While  up  and  down  he  merrily  did  prance) 

Unto  the  air  of  Dance^  the  Boatman,  dance  ! 


THE  DANDY  SHIP 

WE'VE  a  dandy  ship 
And  a  dandy  crew ; 
A  dandy  mate 
And  a  captain  too ; 


THE  DANDY  SHIP  105 

A  dandy  doctor 

Who's  a  dand'  old  sinner, 

And  a  dandy  darkey 

To  cook  the  dinner. 
Chorus.  It's  dance,  sailors,  dance  ! 

It's  dance,  the  sailors,  dance ! 

We'll  dance  all  night  till  the  broad  daylight, 

And  then  go  to  sea  in  the  mornin' ! 

We've  a  dandy  lot 

Of  passengers, 

Who  live  on  chicken 

And  sassengers ; 

A  dandy  steward 

To  steer  their  mess ; 

Likewise  a  dandy — 

Stew — ard — ess  ! 

Chorus.  It's  dance,  the  sailors,  dance  ! 
It's  dance,  the  sailors,  dance  ! 
We'll  dance  all  night  till  the  broad  daylight, 
And  then  go  to  sea  in  the  mornin' ! 


io6  THE  DAND  Y  SHIP 

"  Shiftin'  and  changin'  it  is  understood," 
Said  Abner  Chapin,  "  never  come  to  good." 
"  Yes,"  quoth  the  Stranger,  "  that  is  very  true, 
Who  goes  for  many  gets  but  very  few ; 
Who  travels  zigzag  makes  full  many  a  cross, 
And  rolling  stones  ne'er  gather  any  moss ; 
The  explanation  of  which  word  is  funny  : 
In  common  Yiddish  Hebrew,  moss  means  money, 
And  stones  are  men — take  Peter  for  a  sample — 
Excuse  me,  friends,  I  know  of  an  example 
Of  a  loose  fish  who  changed  about  so  long 
He  first  became  a  byword,  then  a  song, 
Which  I  will  sing  you  though  it  is  distressing 
Not  that  you  need  it— as  a  moral  lesson." 


JACK   OF  ALL   TRADES 

IN  all  trades  I've  been  a  meddler, 
Choi  us.  Foolin'  my  life  away  : 

I  started  life  as  a  Yankee  peddler, 
Fiddlin'  and  foolin'  away. 

Didn't  find  the  trade  encouragin' 

So  I  turned  a  Dey  Street  New  York  surgeon. 

Next  I'd  a  shopman  for  employer, 
And  then  a  Philadelphia  lawyer. 

After  that  I  was  a  smuggler, 
Then  I  travelled  as  a  juggler. 

Next  I  was  a  collector's  dunner, 
And  after  that  an  emigrant  runner. 


io8  JACK  OF  ALL  TRADES 

Then  I  laboured  with  some  bakers, 
Next,  for  a  year,  I  joined  the  Shakers  ; 

But  they  found  me  too  defective, 
So  for  a  while  I  turned  detective. 


Then  I  tried  my  hand  as  teacher, 

And  next  became  a  Blue  Light  preacher. 

Then  I  was  one  of  the 's  editors, 

But  had  to  cut  to  dodge  my  creditors. 

Faking  oranges  I  tried  next  on, 
Then  for  a  while  I  dug  as  a  sexton. 

For  seven  trips  I  was  a  slaver, 
Then,  as  a  barber,  I  turned  shaver. 

After  that  I  worked  as  pirate, 
For  all  the  naval  sharps  to  fire  at. 


JACK  OF  ALL  TRADES  109 

Then  nigger  minstrel,  then  a  sorter, 
Off  an'  on,  shorthand  reporter. 

Then  I  took  to  readin'  lectures, 
And  after  that  to  paintin'  pictures. 

Next  as  drummer  I  did  chaffer, 
And  then  I  worked  as  photographer. 

Then  for  a  while  I  run  a  dairy, 
And  next  I  turned  apothecary. 

Then  stuck  pla-cards  as  a  billist, 
And  so  became  a  patent  pill-ist. 

Finding  all  other  trades  deceiving, 
For  a  time  I  took  to  thieving. 

Now  I'm  a  Pacific  purser, 

And  don't  think  I  can  do  any  worser, 

Foolin'  my  life  away. 


I io  THE  GIRL-WIND 

"Yes,  that's  the  way,"  said  Jones,  "that  some  go  squandrin', 

Which  minds  me  that  we  too  must  now  be  wand'rin' : " 
"  And  I,"  quoth  Brown,  "  must  be  aboard  and  early ; 

But  first  of  all  I'm  going  to  see  my  girley ; 

She'd  blow  a  storm  if  I  should  fail  to  meet  her : 

She  is,  I  vum,  an  awful  breezy  creeter, 

A  gale  in  petticoats,  and  one  that's  stinging ; 

I'll  sing  a  song  on  that — to  end  our  singing. 

You've  known  the  girl-wind,  boys — I  never  doubt  it ; 

And  here's  a  ballad  which  is  all  about  it : " 


THE   GIRL-WIND 

A  HURLY-BURLY,  hurl-wind 
Is  hurrying  o'er  the  waves ; 
Before  it  runs  the  Girl-wind 
Fresh  up  from  the  Ocean  caves. 


THE  GIRL-WIND  in 

She's  the  little  puff  who  goes  before 
To  tell  of  the  blow  that's  coming, 
She  sounds  like  a  hive  when  winter's  o'er 
And  you  hear  the  bees  a-humming. 


It's  all  very  well  when  a  young  girl  can 

Come  tripping  along  with  laughter ; 

But  not  so  nice  when  you  see  the  old  man 

With  a  big  stick  coming  after. 

It's  just  the  same  with  Everything 

When  pleasure  runs  before  us. 

You  drink  your  wine  and  think  it's  fine  : — 

Then  comes  the  tavern  scoreus  ! 


So  we  went  forth  upon  our  different  ways — 
And  these  were  wide — to  many  a  distant  shore  : 
I  to  my  home  to  put  in  form  these  lays, 
And  think  upon  this  strange  wild  sailor-lore, 
In  which,  to  him  who  reads  with  generous  heart, 


ii2  THE  GIRL-WIND 

As  in  a  museum  we  seem  to  see 

The  strangest  relics  gathered  far  apart — 

Rude,  coarse,  and  rough,  yet  touched  with  poetry ; 

Like  shells  and  gems  and  coins  of  olden  time, 

And  worthless  stones,  all  hardened  in  a  mass, 

Such  as  I've  seen,  fished  from  the  ocean's  slime, 

Such  are  these  men  and  melodies — alas  ! 

They  all  are  of  an  age  half  past  away. 

Where  is  the  boatswain  now  ? — who  hears  his  call  ? 

And  where  these  sailing  packets  once  so  gay  ? 

I  to  myself  do  seem  traditional 

And  all  my  youth  a  legend — so  to  say — 

Yet  well  or  ill  I've  done  the  best  I  could 

To  make  in  truthful  song  a  little  show 

Of  quaint  old  tales,  now  little  understood, 

Of  the  North  End  of  Boston — long  ago. 


LAYS   OF   THE    LAND 


THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  GLORYVILLE 

WHERE  the  rockiest  Rocky  Mountains  interview  the  scornful  skies, 
And  the  sager  kinds  of  sage-bush  in  the  middle  distance  rise, 
There  the  cultured  eye  descending  from  the  dreamlike  azure  hill, 
Lights  in  an  aesthetic  foreground  on  the  town  of  Gloryville. 

It  was  in  the  Middle  Ages — 'bout  the  end  of  Sixty-eight, 

So  I  found  the  hoary  legend  written  on  an  ancient  slate — 

That  one  Ezry  Jenks  prospecting,  when  he  reached  this  blooming  spot, 

Thus  uplifted  to  his  pardner  :  "  Glory  !     Moses,  let  us  squat !  " 

Thus  rebounded  Moses  Adams  :  "  Glory  was  the  foremost  word 
Which  in  the  untrammelled  silence  of  this  wilderness  was  heard, 
And  I  arnswer,  dimly  feelin'  like  a  prophet,  grand  and  slow, 
1  Glory  kinder  sounds  like  Money — up  to  glory  let  her  go  ! '" 


ii6  THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  GLORYVILLE 

And  this  casual  conversation  in  the  year  of  Sixty-eight, 

As  if  by  an  inspiration  he  recorded  on  a  slate, 

Which  'twas  said  in  later  ages — six  weeks  after — used  to  hang 

As  a  curiositary  in  the  principal  shebang. 


On  the  spot  that  very  evening  they  perceived  a  beauteous  gleam 
From  a  grain  of  shining  metal  in  a  wild  auriferous  stream  : 
As  their  eyes  remarked  the  symptom  thus  their  tongues  responsive  spoke : 
"  In  this  undiscovered  section  there  is  pay-dirt,  sure  as  smoke  ! " 


Little  boots  or  little  shoes  it  to  inform  you  how,  like  crows 
To  a  carcase,  folks  came  flying,  and  the  town  of  Glory  rose ; 
As  in  country  schools  the  urchins  cast  each  one  a  spittle-ball, 
Till  at  last  a  monstrous  paper  fungus  gathers  on  the  wall. 


'Long  the  road  they  built  their  cabins,  in  a  vis-a-visual  way, 
As  if  each  man  to  his  neighbour  kind  of  wished  to  have  his  say ; 
But  'twas  also  said  that  like  two  rows  of  teeth  the  houses  grew, 
Threatening  uncommon  danger  to  the  stranger  passing  through. 


THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  GLORYVILLE  117 

Yes,  for  like  the  note  of  freedom  sounded  on  Hibernia's  harp, 
Every  person  in  the  party  was  a  most  uncommon  sharp ; 
And  it  got  to  be  a  saying  that  from  such  an  ornery  cuss 
As  a  regular  Gloryvillin — oh,  good  Law  deliver  us  ! 


First  of  all  the  pay-dirt  vanished  or  became  uncommon  rare, 

Then  they  wandered  more  than  ever  to  the  Cross  and  from  the  Square, 

For  when  all  resources  failed  them  nary  copper  did  they  mind, 

For  they  had  fine-answering  Genius,  which  is  never  left  behind. 


So  they  got  incopperated  as  a  city  fair  and  grand, 

Spreading  memoirs  of  their  splendour  over  many  a  distant  land, 

Mind  I  say  in  distant  places — people  near  them  knew 

Into  what  unearthly  beauty  the  great  town  of  Glory  grew. 


Then  they  sent  an  ex-tra  Governor  over  seas  and  far  beyond, 
Even  unto  distant  Holland,  loaded  up  with  many  a  bond, 
Splendidly  engraved  in  London,  having  just  the  proper  touch 
Quite  imposing — rather — for  they  did  impose  upon  the  Dutch. 


n8  THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  GLORYVILLE 

And  with  every  bond  the  Governor  had  a  picture  to  bestow 
Of  the  town  of  Gloryville  a-bathing  in  the  sunset's  glow  ; 
This  they  had  performed  in  Paris  by  an  artist  full  of  cheek, 
Who  was  told  to  draw  a  city  comme  ilfaut  dans  VAmerique. 


The  ideas  of  this  artist  were  idead  from  long  ago, 
Out  of  scenery  in  an  opera,  "  Cortez  in  the  Mexico." 
Therefore  all  his  work  expanded  with  expensive  fallacies : 
Castles,  towered  walls,  pavilions,  real-estately  palaces. 

In  the  foreground  lofty  palm-trees,  as  if  full  of  soaring  love, 
Bore  up  coco-nuts  and  monkeys  to  the  smiling  heaven  above ; 
Jet-black  Indian  chieftains,  at  their  feet  too  lovely  girls  were  sighin , 
With  an  elephant  beyond  them — here  and  there  a  casual  lion. 


You  have  seen  in  Pilgrim's  Progress  the  Celestial  City  stand 
Like  a  hub  in  half  a  cart-wheel  raying  light  o'er  all  the  land. 
Well,  in  that,  it  is  the  felloes  of  the  wheel  which  cause  the  blaze ; 
So  in  Gloryville  the  fellows  were  the  ones  who  made  the  rays. 


THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  GLORYVILLE  119 

When  these  views  were  well  matured  the  Governor  went  to  Amsterdam, 
Where  to  Mynheer  Schmuel  Ganef  first  of  all  he  made  his  slam  : 
At  a  glance  each  "  saw  "  the  other — at  a  glance  they  went  aside, 
And  without  a  word  of  bother  soon  the  plan  was  cut  and  dried. 


For  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  then  the  Governor  at  will 
Gave  away  the  full  fee-simple  of  the  town  of  Gloryville. 
"  Dat  for  you,"  said  Schmuel  Ganef,  "  is,  I  dink,  not  much  too  much, 
But  I  makesh  de  shtock  a  million  ven  I  sells  him  to  the  Dutch." 


And  the  secret  of  his  selling  was  upon  the  artful  plan 
Known  to  the  police  in  Paris  as  the  vol  Americain, 
Whereby  he  who  does  the  spilling  manages  the  man  who's  spilt 
Very  nicely,  for  he  makes  him  an  accomplice  in  the  guilt. 

Even  as  of  old  great  sages  managed  the  Parisian  fonds, 

So  in  Amsterdam  Heer  Ganef  peddled  out  his  Glory  bonds ; 

And  to  all  he  slyly  whispered,  "  I  will  let  you  in  de  first 

On  de  ground-floor — sell  out  quickly — for  you  know  de  ding  may  burst/ 


120  THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  GLORYVILLE 

Woe  to  you  who  live  by  thieving,  though  you  be  of  rogues  the  chief, 
Even  the  greatest  will  discover  in  due  time  his  master-thief. 
True,  he  "  let  them  in,"  and  truly  on  the  very  bottom  floor, 
But  was  with  the  Gloryvillins  in  the  cellar  long  before. 

And  to  tell  you  how  the  biters  all  got  bitten  were  in  vain ; 
Here  the  Governor  leaves  my  story,  and  he  comes  not  in  again. 
I  will  pass  to  later  ages,  when  all  Gloryville,  you  bet, 
Found  itself  extreme  encumbered  with  an  extra  booming  debt. 

Those  who  sold  the  bonds  had  vanished,  those  who  hadn't  held  the 

town. 

Little  knew  they  of  its  glory  over  seas  or  great  renown. 
They  had  nothing  of  the  fruitage,  though,  alas  !  they  held  the  plant, 
Nothing  saw  they  of  the  picture,  save,  indeed,  the  Elephant. 

He  who  had  been  in  the  background  now  came  trampling  to  the  fore ; 
Terribly  he  trampled  on  them,  very  awful  was  his  roar ! 
Very  dreadful  is  the  silence  when  no  human  voice  responds 
To  a  legal  requisition  for  the  interest  of  our  bonds. 


THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  GLORYVILLE  121 

But  ere  long  a  shrewd  reflection  unto  Moses  Adams  came— 
"  Darned  ef  I'm  a-gwine  to  suffer  fur  another  party's  game ; 
Wings  is  given  to  muskeeters — like  muskeeters  men  can  fly ; 
Ef  a  strawberry-vine  can  travel  with  its  roots,  then  why  not  I  ?  " 


Silently,  in  secret,  Moses  to  himself  a  plan  reveals, 
Got  a  three-inch  plank  and  sawed  it  into  surreptitious  wheels, 
And  when  night  in  solemn  mystery  had  succeeded  unto  day, 
Put  his  hut  and  things  on  axles,  and  quite  lonely  drove  away 


To  a  place  just  over  yonder  by  the  old  Coyote  Road ; 
There,  no  more  a  man  of  glory,  Moses  Adams  dropped  his  load, 
And  when  resting  from  his  labour  and  refreshing  from  his  jug, 
Having  known  a  town  called  Julesberg,  called  his  shanty  Splendourbug. 


On  the  following  morn  as  usual  in  due  time  arose  the  sun, 
And  the  Gloryvillins  followed  his  example  one  by  one ; 
While  he  smiled  upon  the  city,  as  on  other  things  beneath, 
'Twas  observed  one  snag  was  wanting  in  the  double  row  of  teeth. 


122  THE  RISE  AND  FALL  OF  GLORYVILLE 

Little  said  the  Left-behinders,  but  they  seemed  to  take  the  hint, 
And  each  man  surveyed  his  neighbour  with  a  shrewd  and  genial  squint 
All  day  long  there  was  a  sound  of  sawing  timber  up  and  down, 
Seven  more  houses  in  the  morning  were  a-wanting  in  the  town. 


And  before  the  week  departed  all  the  town  departed  too, 
Just  like  the  swallows  in  the  autumn  to  another  soil  they  flew ; 
Only  that,  unlike  the  swallows  which  we  hear  of  in  the  song, 
When  the  Gloryvillins  squandered  each  one  took  his  nest  along. 

All  except  one  ancient  darkey,  obstinate  and  blind  and  lame, 
Who  for  want  of  wheels  and  credit  could  not  follow  up  the  game ; 
So  the  others  had  to  leave  him,  which  they  did  without  regret, 
Left  him  there  without  a  copper — just  one  million  deep  in  debt. 


If  you  seek  them  you  may  find  them  comfortable  as  in  a  rug, 
All  of  them  at  length  established  in  the  town  of  Splendourbug ; 
And  the  driver  to  the  traveller  as  by  Gloryville  he  goes, 
Points  him  out,  an  ancient  darkey  who  a  million  dollars  owes. 


IN  THE  WRONG  BOX 

WHEN  Eagle  Davis  died, 

I  was  sittin'  by  his  side, 
'Twas  in  Boston,  Massachusetts ;  and  he  said  to  me,  "  Old  boy  ! 

This  climate — as  you  see — 

Isn't  quite  the  size  for  me ; 
Dead  or  livin',  take  me  back  if  you  can  to  Ellanoy  !  " 


So  I  took  him  by  the  hand, 

But  he'd  just  run  out  his  sand, 
And  his  breath  was  gone  for  ever — before  a  word  would  come ; 

Then  I  and  other  three 

Together  did  agree 
In  a  party  for  to  travel  and  to  funeralise  him  home. 


124  IN  THE   WRONG  BOX 

But  Goshen  Wheeler  said, 

As  he  looked  upon  the  dead, 
Weepin'  mildly,  "Just  remark  my  observation  what  I  say: 

That  deceased,  now  glori^j-, 

Was  in  life  a  curious  cuss, 
And  somethin'  unexpectable  will  happen  on  the  way. 

"  Frum  the  time  that  he  was  born 

Till  he  doubled  round  the  Horn 
Of  Death,  all  his  measurements  and  pleasurements  were  odd ; 

And  odd  his  line  will  be, 

As  you're  registered  to  see, 
Till  his  walnut  case  is  underneath  the  gravel  and  the  sod." 

It  was  bitter  winter  weather 

When  we  all  four  got  together 
At  the  depot  with  the  coffin  in  an  extra  packin'  box ; 

And  a  friend  with  good  intent, 

A  cask  of  whisky  sent, 
Just  to  keep  our  boats  from  wrackin',  as  they  say,  upon  the  rocks. 


IN  THE  WRONG  BOX  125 

Then  a  ticket  agent  he 

Seem'  mournin',  says  to  me, 
"Can  I  get  the  cards,  or  help  you  in  your  trouble,  Mister  Brown?" 

So  with  solemn  words  I  said, 

As  I  pinted  to  the  dead, 
"  There  you'll  find,  I  guess,  our  pilgrimage  and  shrine  is  written  down." 


Then  all  night  beneath  the  stars 

We  sat  grimly  in  the  cars, 
Sometimes  sleepin',  sometimes  thinkin',  sometimes  drinkin',  till  the  dawn ; 

And  each  man  went  in  his  turn 

To  the  baggage-crate  to  learn 
If  the  box  was  keepin'  time  with  us,  and  how  'twas  gettin'  on. 

Then  all  day  beneath  the  sun 

Still  the  train  went  rushin'  on, 
While  we  still  kep'  as  silent  as  grave-stones  as  we  went : 

Playing  euchre  solemnly, 

Which  we  kinder  did  agree 
With  the  stakes  to  build  for  Davis  a  decent  monument. 


126  IN  THE  WRONG  BOX 

'Bout  once  in  every  mile 

Some  mourner  took  a  smile, 
But  we  did  no  other  smilin'  as  we  travelled  day  or  night  ; 

And  once  in  every  hour 

Some  one  went  into  the  bower, 
And  reported  the  receptacle  of  Davis  was  all  right. 

But  when  four  days  were  past, 

Which  we  still  were  flyin'  fast, 
Goshen  Wheeler,  very  solemn,  with  expression  to  us  cries, 

"Where  we  are  it  should  be  freezin' 

And  our  very  breaths  a-squeezin', 
Whereas  the  air  is  hot  enough  to  bake  persimmon  pies. 

"  Don't  you  smell  a  rich  perfume 

As  of  summer  flowers  in  bloom  ? 
'Tis  magnolias  a-peddled  by  yon  humble  coloured  boy  : 

Now,  I  never  yet  did  know 

That  the  sweet  mag-no-li-o 
Grew  in  winter  in  the  latitude  of  Northern  Ellanoy." 


IN  THE  WRONG  BOX  127 

Then  said  Ebenezer  Dotton, 

"  I  behold  a  field  of  cotton, 
And  I  wonder  how  in  thunder  such  a  veg'table  got  here. 

I  don't  know  how  we're  fixed, 

But  the  climate's  getting  mixed, 
And  it's  spilin'  very  rapidly  with  warmness  as  I  fear." 


Spoke  Mister  Aaron  Bland, 

"I  perceive  on  yonder  land 
That  sugar-cane  is  bloomin',  correctly,  all  in  rows, 

And  not  to  make  allusions 

To  Republican  delusions, 
But  the  niggers  air  a-getting'  all  around  as  thick  as  crows." 

Still  we  sat  there  mighty  glum 

Till  along  a  fellow  come. 
And  I  says,  says  I,  "  Conductor,  now  tell  us  what  it  means, 

Just  inform  us  where  we  be  ?  " 

"  Wall,  now,  gentlemen,"  said  he, 
"  I  reckon  we  air  comin'  to  the  spot  called  New  Or-leens  ! 


128  IN  THE   WRONG  BOX 

So  we  rushed  all  in  a  row, 

When  we  got  to  the  depot, 
To  the  baggage-crate,  a-wonderin'  at  these  transformation  scenes 

And  we  found  out  unexpected 

That  the  box  had  been  directed 
Not  unto  Ellanoy,  but  to  a  man  in  New  Or-leens  ! 

Without  carin'  if  I'd  catch  it, 

I  straightway  took  a  hatchet, 
And  busted  off  the  cover  without  openin'  my  mouth ; 

And  found  a  grand  pianner 

Which  we'd  followed  for  our  banner 
All  the  way  from  Massachusetts  unto  the  sunny  South ! 

Then  I  said,  "  I  rather  guess 

I  can  see  into  this  mess, 
And  explain  the  startlin'  error  which  has  given  you  such  shocks. 

When  that  Boston  fellow,  he 

Asked  the  route  I'd  take  of  me, 
I  pinted,  inadvertional,  unto  another  box." 


IN  THE  WRONG  BOX  129 

Now  Eagle  Davis  lies 

Beneath  the  Northern  skies, 
Where  the  snow  is  on  the  pine-tree  while  we  are  with  the  palm ; 

But  I  reckon  if  his  spirit 

Should  ever  come  to  hear  it, 
He'll  be  perfectly  contented  with  the  story  in  this  psalm. 


ZION  JERSEY  BOGGS 

A    LEGEND    OF    PHILADELPHIA 

BEFORE  the  telegraphic  wires 

Had  ever  run  from  pole  to  pole, 
Or  telegirls  sent  telegrams 

To  cheer  the  weary  waiting  soul ; 
When  all  things  went  about  as  slow 
As  terrapins  could  run  on  clogs, 
Was  played  a  game 
By  one  whose  name 
Was  Mister  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 


A  Philadelphia  newspaper 

Was  printed  then  on  Chestnut  Street, 


ZION  JERSE  Y  BO  GGS  1 3 1 

While  'crost  the  way,  just  opposite, 

There  lived  a  sufferin'  rival  sheet, 
Whose  editors  could  get  no  news, 

Which  made  'em  cross  as  starvin'  hogs ; 
The  first,  I  guess, 
Had  an  express 
Which  kind  o'  b'longed  to  Mister  Boggs. 

But  in  those  days  the  only  news 

Which  reely  opened  readers'  eyes, 
Was  of  the  New  York  lottery, 

And  who  by  luck  had  got  a  prize. 
All  other  news,  for  all  they  cared, 
Might  travel  to  the  orful  dogs ; 
And  this  they  got 
All  piping  hot — 
Though  surreptitiously — from  Boggs. 

For  of  the  crew  no  party  knew 
That  Boggs  did  any  horses  own. 


132  ZION  JERSEY  BOGGS 

All  sportin'  amputations  he 

Did  most  concussively  disown ; 
For  he  had  serious  subtle  aims, 

His  wheels  were  full  of  secret  cogs, — 
Well  oiled  and  slow, 
Yet  sure  to  go, 
Was  Mister  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 

One  mornin'  he,  mysteriously, 

An'  smilin'  quite  ironical, 
Spoke  to  the  other  editor, 

The  man  who  run  the  Chronicle  : 
"  The  Ledger  has  a  hoss  express 

By  which  your  lottery  news  he  flogs." 
"Yes,  that  is  true, 
But  what's  to  do  ?  " 
Replied  the  man  to  Mister  Boggs. 

Then  Mister  Boggs  let  down  his  brows, 
And  with  a  long  deep  knowing  wink, 


ZION  JERSE  Y  BOGGS  1 33 

Said,  "  Hosses  travel  mighty  fast, 

But  ther  air  faster  things,  I  think ; 
An'  kerrier-pidgings,  as  you  know, 

Kin  find  their  way  thro'  storm  and  fogs  : 
Them  air  the  bugs 
To  fly  like  slugs  ! " 
Said  Mister  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 

"  And  in  my  glorious  natyve  land, 
Which  lies  acrost  the  Delaware, 
I  hev  a  lot  upon  the  spot, — 

Just  twenty  dollars  fur  a  pair. 
These  gentle  insects  air  the  things 

To  make  the  Ledger  squeal  like  hogs ; 
That  is  the  game 
To  hit  'em  lame  ! " 
Said  Mister  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 


The  editor  looked  back  again, 

And  saw  him  better  on  his  wink. 


1 34  ZION  JERSE  Y  BOGGS 

"  It  is  the  crisis  of  our  fate — 

Say,  Boggs,  what  is  your  style  of  drink  ? 
Step  to  the  bar  of  Congress  Hall  • — 
We'll  try  your  poultry  on,  by  Gogs  ! 
An'  let  'em  fly 
Tarnation  high ! " 
"  Amen  !  "  said  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 


The  pidgins  came,  the  pidgins  flew, 

They  lit  upon  the  lofty  wall ; 
They  made  their  five  an'  ninety  miles 

In  just  about  no  time  at  all. 
Compared  to  them,  the  Ledger  team 
Went  just  as  slow  as  haulin'  logs. 
But  all  was  mum, 
Shut  close  an'  dum, 
By  the  request  of  Mister  Boggs. 

Then  on  the  follerin'  Monday  he, 
Lookin'  profounder  as  he  prowled, 


ZION  JERSE  Y  BOGGS  1 3  5 

This  son  of  sin  an'  mystery, 

Into  the  Ledger  orfice  owled. 
"  An'  oh  !  to  think,"  he  sadly  groaned, 

"  That  earth  should  bear  setch  skalliwogs  ! 
Setch  all-fired  snakes, 
And  no  mistakes  !  " 
Said  Mister  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 

"  Why,  what  is  up  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Swain ; 

"  It  seems  you've  had  some  awful  shoves." 
" The  Chronicle"  his  agent  cried, 

"  Has  went  an'  bin  an'  bought  some  doves  ! 
Them  traitors,  wretches,  swindlers,  cheats, 
Hev  smashed  us  up  like  polywogs. 
They've  knocked,  I  guess, 
Our  hoss  express 
Higher  than  any  kite,"  said  Boggs. 

"  Have  you  no  plan  ?  "  asked  Mister  Swain, 
"  To  keep  the  fellows  off  our  walks  ?  " 


1 36  ZION  JERSE  Y  BOGGS 

"  I  hev"  said  Boggs,  as  grim  as  death ; 

"  What  do  you  think  of  pidging-horks  ? 
For  in  my  glorious  natyve  land, 
Acrost  the  river,  'mong  the  frogs, 
I  hev  a  lot 
All  sharply  sot 
To  eat  them  pidgings  up,"  said  Boggs. 

"  They  are  the  chosen  birds  of  wrath, 
They  fly  like  arrers  through  the  air, 
Or  angels  sent  by  orful  Death — 

Jist  fifty  dollars  fur  a  pair ; 
An'  cheap  to  keep,  because,  you  see, 
Upon  the  enemy  they  progs." 
"Well,  try  it  on, 
And  now  begone  ! " 
Said  Mister  Swain  to  Mister  Boggs. 

The  autumn  morn  was  bright  and  fair, 
Fresh  as  a  rose  with  recent  rain. 


ZION  JERSE  Y  BOGGS  1 37 

The  pidgins  tortled  through  the  air, 
But  nary  one  came  home  again. 
Some  feathers  dropped  in  Chestnut  Street, 
Some  bills  and  claws  among  the  logs  : 
Wipin'  a  tear, 
"  I  greatly  fear 
That  all's  not  right,"  said  Mr.  Boggs. 


Into  the  Chronicle  he  went, 

Twice  as  mysterious  as  before, 
"  And  hev  you  heard  the  orful  news  ?  " 
He  whispered  as  he  shet  the  door. 
"Oh,  I  hev  come  to  tell  a  tale 

Of  crime,  which  all  creation  flogs, 
Of  wretchery 
And  treachery 
That  bangs  tarnation  sin,"  said  Boggs. 

"  Them  Ledger  fellers  with  their  tricks, 
Hev  slopped  clean  over  crime's  dark  cup. 


138  ZION  JERSE  Y  BOGGS 

They've  bin  an'  bought  some  pidging-horks, 

And  they  hev  et  our  pidgings  up. 
Oh,  whut  is  life  wuth  livin'  fur 
When  editors  behave  like  hogs  ? 
An'  ragin'  crime 
Makes  double  time ; 
Oh,  darn  setch  villany  !  "  cried  Boggs. 

"But  hark !  bee-hold,  to-morrer,  thou 

In  deep  revenge  may  dry  your  tears ; 
I  hev  a  plan,  which,  you'll  allow, 

Beats  all-git-out  when  it  eppears. 
The  ragin'  eagle  of  the  North, 

The  bird  which  all  creation  flogs, 
Will  cause  them  horks 
To  walk  ther  chalks, 
An'  give  us  grand  revenge,"  said  Boggs. 

'  Them  glorious  birds  of  liberty, 

Them  symbols  of  our  country's  fame, 


ZION  JERSE  Y  BOGGS  1 39 

Wild,  sarsy,  furious,  and  free, 

Indeliably  rowdy  game ; 
They  shall  revenge  them  gentile  doves, 
Our  harmless  messengers,  by  Gogs  ! 
In  which  the  horks 
Hev  stuck  ther  forks," 
Cried  Mister  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 

"  For  in  my  glorious  natyve  land 
Acrost  the  river,  down  below, 
I  hev  a  farm,  and  in  the  barn 

Six  captyve  eagles  in  a  row  : 
One  hundred  dollars  fur  a  pair ; 

Fetch  out  the  flimsies  frum  your  togs 
An'  up  on  high 
ril  make  'em  fly," 
Said  Mister  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 

But  this  same  editor  had  heard 

Some  hint  or  rumour,  faint  or  dim, 


i4o  ZION  JERSE  Y  BOGGS 

How  Mister  Boggs,  it  was  averred, 

Was  coming  Paddy  over  him. 
An  earlier  tale  of  soapy  deeds 

Then  gave  his  memory  startling  jogs, 
And  full  of  wrath 
Right  in  his  path 
He  went  for  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 

"  Horses  and  pidgins — pidgin-horks  " — 
That  was  enough  to  raise  his  Dutch : 
He  saw  it  all — and  also  saw 

The  eagle — "Just  one  bird  too  much." 
Too  mad  to  mind  his  shootin'-iron, 
And  throw  good  powder  to  the  dogs, 
He  grabbed  his  chair, 
And  then  and  there 
Corrected  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 

After  long  years  had  rolled  away, 
And  Morse's  telegraph  came  in, 


ZION  JERSEY  BOGGS  141 

Still  on  the  facing  rival  roofs 

Two  grey  old  cages  could  be  seen, 
And  young  reporters  o'er  their  drinks 
Would  tell  each  other — jolly  dogs — 
Of  ancient  time 
What  in  this  rhyme 
I've  told  of  Zion  Jersey  Boggs. 


THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  GREEN  OLD  MAN 

IT  was  a  balmeous  day  in  May,  when  spring  was  springing  high 
And  all  amid  the  buttercups  the  bees  did  butterfly ; 
While  the  butterflies  were  being  enraptured  in  the  flowers, 
And  winsome  frogs  were  singing  soft  morals  to  the  showers. 

Green  were  the  emerald  grasses  which  grew  upon  the  plain, 
And  green  too  were  the  verdant  boughs  which  rippled  in  the  rain, 
Far  green  likewise  the  apple  hue  which  clad  the  distant  hill, 
But  at  the  station  sat  a  man  who  looked  far  greener  still. 

An  ancient  man,  a  boy-like  man,  a  person  mild  and  meek, 
A  being  who  had  little  tongue,  and  nary  bit  of  cheek. 
And  while  upon  him  pleasant-like  I  saw  the  ladies  look, 
He  sat  a-counting  money  in  a  brownsome  pocket-book. 


THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  GREEN  OLD  MAN  143 

Then  to  him  a  policeman  spoke  :  "  Unless  you  feel  too  proud, 
You'd  better  stow  away  that  cash  while  you're  in  this  here  crowd ; 
There's  many  a  chap  about  this  spot  who'd  clean  you  out  like  ten." 
"  And  can  it  be,"  exclaimed  the  man,  "  there  are  such  wicked  men  ? 


"  Then  I  will  put  my  greenbacks  up  all  in  my  pocket-book, 
And  keep  it  buttoned  very  tight,  and  at  the  button  look." 
He  said  it  with  a  simple  tone,  and  gave  a  simple  smile — 
You  never  saw  a  half-grown  shad  one-half  so  void  of  guile. 


And  the  bumble-bees  kept  bumbling  away  among  the  flowers, 
While  distant  frogs  were  frogging  amid  the  summer  showers, 
And  the  tree-toads  were  tree-toadying  in  accents  sharp  or  flat — 
All  nature  seemed  a-naturing  as  there  the  old  man  sat. 


Then  up  and  down  the  platform  promiscuous  he  strayed, 
Amid  the  waiting  passengers  he  took  his  lemonade, 
A-making  little  kind  remarks  unto  them  all  at  sight, 
Until  he  met  two  travellers  who  looked  cosmopolite. 


144  THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  GREEN  OLD  MAN 

Now  even  as  the  old  was  green,  this  pair  were  darkly-brown ; 
They  seemed  to  be  of  that  degree  which  sports  about  the  town. 
Amid  terrestrial  mice,  I  ween,  their  destiny  was  Cat ; 
If  ever  men  were  gonoffs,1  I  should  say  these  two  were  that. 

And  they  had  watched  that  old  man  well  with  interested  look, 
And  gazed  him  counting  greenbacks  in  that  brownsome  pocket-book 
And  the  elder  softly  warbled  with  benevolential  phiz, 
"  Green  peas  has  come  to  market,  and  the  veg'tables  is  riz." 

Yet  still  across  the  heavenly  sky  the  clouds  went  clouding  on, 
The  rush  upon  the  gliding  brook  kept  rushing  all  alone, 
While  the  ducks  upon  the  water  were  a-ducking  just  the  same, 
And  every  mortal  human  man  kept  on  his  little  game. 

And  the  old  man  to  the  strangers  very  affable  let  slip 

How  that  zealousy  policeman  had  given  him  the  tip, 

And  how  his  cash  was  buttoned  in  his  pocket  dark  and  dim, 

And  how  he  guessed  no  man  alive  on  earth  could  gammon  him. 

1  Gonoff^  a  Scriptural  term  for  a  Member  of  the  Legislature,  or  suchlike, 


THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  GREEN  OLD  MAN  145 

In  ardent  conversation  ere  long  the  three  were  steeped, 
And  in  that  good  man's  confidence  the  younger  party  deeped. 
The  p'liceman,  as  he  shadowed  them,  exclaimed  in  blooming  rage, 
"  They're  stuffin'  of  that  duck,  I  guess,  and  leavin'  out  the  sage." 


He  saw  the  game  distinctly,  and  inspected  how  it  took, 
And  watched  the  reappearance  of  that  brownsome  pocket-book, 
And  how  that  futile  ancient,  ere  he  buttoned  up  his  coat, 
Had  interchanged,  obliging-like,  a  greensome  coloured  note. 


And  how  they  parted  tenderly,  and  how  the  happy  twain 

Went  out  into  the  Infinite  by  taking  of  the  train ; 

Then  up  the  blue  policeman  came,  and  said,  "  My  ancient  son, 

Now  you  have  gone  and  did  it ;  say  what  you  have  been  and  done  ?  " 


And  unto  him  the  good  old  man  replied  with  childish  glee, 
"  They  were  as  nice  a  two  young  men  as  I  did  ever  see ; 
But  they  were  in  such  misery  their  story  made  me  cry ; 

So  I  lent  'em  twenty  dollars — which  they'll  pay  me  by-and-bye. 

10 


146  THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  GREEN  OLD  MAN 

"  But  as  I  had  no  twenty,  we  also  did  arrange, 

They  got  from  me  a  fifty  bill,  and  gimme  thirty  change ; 

But  they  will  send  that  fifty  back,  and  by  to-morrow's  train- 


"  That  note,"  out  cried  the  constable,  "  you'll  never  see  again." 


"  And  that,"  exclaimed  the  sweet  old  man,  "  I  hope  I  never  may, 
Because  I  do  not  care  a  cuss  how  far  it  keeps  away ; 
For  if  I'm  a  judge  of  money,  and  I  reether  think  I  am, 
The  one  I  shoved  was  never  worth  a  continental  dam. 


"  They  hev  wandered  with  their  sorrers  into  the  sunny  South, 
They  hev  got  uncommon  swallows  and  an  extry  lot  of  mouth. 
In  the  next  train  to  the  North'ard  I  expect  to  widely  roam, 
And  if  any  come  inquiring  jist  say  I  ain't  at  home." 

The  p'liceman  lifted  up  his  glance  unto  the  sunny  skies, 
I  s'pose  the  light  was  fervent,  for  a  tear  were  in  his  eyes, 
And  said,  "  If  in  your  travels  a  hat  store  you  should  see, 
Just  buy  yourself  a  beaver  tile  and  charge  that  tile  to  me." 


THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  GREEN  OLD  MAN  147 

While  the  robins  were  a-robbing  acrost  the  meadow  gay, 
And  the  pigeons  still  a-pigeoning  among  the  gleam  of  May, 
All  out  of  doors  kept  out  of  doors  as  suchlike  only  can, 
A-singing  of  an  endless  hymn  about  that  good  old  man. 


CARRYING   COALS 

IN  the  gloomsome  abysses  where  darkness  is  kept, 

And  the  spirit  of  silence  for  ages  has  slept, 

In  the  great  shaft  of  Pottsville,  way  down  in  the'  hole, 
There  came  seven  parties,  all  dealers  in  coal ; 

But  they  never  had  been  in  that  chasm  before, 

Nor  had  the  sensation  of  darkness  all  o'er, 
Which  so  greatly  expandeth  the  soul. 

And  one  of  'em  said,  "  It's  an  awful  delight 

To  be  infinite  deep  into  no  end  of  night, 

Where  the  heavenly  sunshine  can't  manage  to  spring, - 
And,  talking  of  that,  I've  a  notion,  by  Jing  ! 

Let  we  ourselves  mine  out  some  coal  lumps  to-day 

To  show  to  the  folks, — which  I  think,  by  the  way, 
Would  be  a  poetical  thing." 


CARRYING  COALS       .  149 

So  they  filled  up  their  pockets,  untried  by  a  doubt, 

And  in  the  hotel  they  unveiled  'em  all  out ; 

But  their  glances  grew  strange  as  they  turned  o'er  the  weight, 
Till  one  of  them  shouted,  "  By  thunder,  it's  slate  !  " 

Yet  the  youngest  among  them  had  dealered  in  coal, 

And  unto  that  traffic  surrendered  his  soul, 
Since  the  Anno  Eighteen  Forty-eight. 


For  all  of  man's  wisdom  is  only  a  dream, 
Which  passeth  away  like  a  plate  of  ice-cream, 
And  the  best  of  experience  fails,  as  we  mark, 
If  you  go  for  to  dig  when  you're  all  in  the  dark ; 
For  there's  always  a  moral  inside  of  a  tale, 
And  big  things  in  little  things  always  prevail 
As  sure  as  there's  wood  in  the  bark. 


CAREY,   OF    CARSON 

THE  night-mist  dim  and  darkling, 

As  o'er  the  roads  we  pass, 
Lies  in  the  morning  sparkling 

As  dewdrops  on  the  grass. 
E'en  so  the  deeds  of  darkness, 

Which  come  like  midnight  dews, 
Appear  as  sparkling  items 

Next  morning  in  the  news. 

Away  in  Carson  City, 

Far  in  the  Silver  Land, 
There  lives  one  Justice  Carey, 

A  man  of  head  and  hand  ; 
And  as  upon  his  table 

The  Judge  a-smoking  sat 


CAREY,  OF  CARSON  151 

There  rowdied  in  a  rougher 
Who  wore  a  gallows  hat. 


He  looked  upon  the  Justice, 

But  Justice  did  not  budge 
Until  the  younger  warbled, 

"  Say — don't  you  know  me,  Judge  ?  " 
"  I  think,"  said  Carey  meekly, 

"  Your  face  full  well  I  know, — 
I  sent  you  up  for  stealing 

A  horse  a  year  ago." 

"  Ay,  that  is  just  the  hair-pin 

I  am,  and  that's  my  line ; 
And  here  is  twenty  dollars 

I've  brought  to  pay  the  fine." 
"  You  owe  no  fine,"  said  Carey, 
"  Your  punishment  is  o'er." 
"  Not  yet,"  replied  the  rover ; 

"  I've  come  to  have  some  more. 


152  CAREY,  OF  CARSON 

11  Fust-rate  assault  and  batt'ry 

I'm  goin'  to  commit, 
And  you're  the  mournful  victim 

That  I  intend  to  hit, 
And  give  you  such  a  scrampin' 

As  never  was,  nohow ; 
And  so,  to  save  the  lawin', 

I  guess  I'll  settle  now." 


Up  rose  the  Court  in  splendour ; 

"  Young  man,  your  start  is  fair, 
Sail  in,  my  son,  sail  over, 

And  we  will  call  it  square ! 
Go  in  upon  your  chances, — 

Perhaps  you  may  not  miss  • 
I  like  to  see  young  heroes 

Ambitionin'  like  this." 

The  young  one  at  the  older 
Went  in  with  all  his  heft, 


CAREY,  OF  CARSON  153 

And,  like  a  flyin'  boulder, 

At  once  let  out  his  left ; 
The  Court,  in  haste,  ducked  under 

Its  head  uncommon  spry, 
Then  lifted  the  intruder 

With  a  puncher  in  the  eye, — 


A  regular  right-hander  • 

And  like  a  cannon-ball, 
The  young  man,  when  percussioned 

Went  over  on  the  wall. 
In  just  about  a  second, 

The  Court,  with  all  its  vim, 
Like  squash-vines  o'er  a  meadow, 

Went  climbing  over  him. 

Yea,  as  the  pumpkin  clambers 

Above  an  Indian  grave, 
Or  as  the  Mississippi 

Inunders  with  its  wave, 


154  CAREY,  OF  CARSON 

And  merrily  slops  over 
A  town  in  happy  sport, 

E'en  so  that  man  was  clambered 
All  over  by  the  Court. 


And  in  about  a  minute 

That  party  was  so  raw, 
He  would  have  seemed  a  stranger 

Unto  his  dearest  squaw  ; 
Till  he  was  soft  and  tender, 

This  morsel  once  so  tough, 
And  then,  in  sad  surrender, 

He  moaned  aloud,  "  Enough  !  " 

He  rose  ;  and  Justice  Carey 
Said  to  him  ere  he  went, 

"  I  do  not  think  the  fightin' 
You  did  was  worth  a  cent. 

I  charge  for  time  two  dollars, 
As  lawyers  should,  'tis  plain  ; 


CAREY,  OF  CARSON  155 

The  balance  of  the  twenty 
I  give  you  back  again. 


"  I  like  to  be  obligin' 

To  folks  with  all  my  powers, 
So  when  you  next  want  fightin' 

Don't  come  in  office  hours  ; 
I  only  make  my  charges 

For  what's  in  legal  time, — 
Drop  in,  my  son,  this  evenin', 

And  I'll  not  charge  a  dime." 

The  young  man  took  the  guerdon, 

As  he  had  ta'en  the  scars  ; 
Then  took  himself  awayward 

To  the  'Ginia  City  cars. 
'Tis  glorious  when  heroes 

Go  in  to  right  their  wrongs ; 
But  if  you're  only  hair-pins, 

Oh,  then  beware  of  tongs  ! 


JOSEPHI  IN  BENICIA 

THERE  was  a  man  who  spent  his  mortal  life 

A-prisoning  until  there  came  a  war ; 

And  with  the  war  there  came  an  enemy, 

And  with  the  enemy  came  dynamite, 

And  with  the  dynamite  the  engineers 

Histed  that  prison-house,  and  with  it  all 

That  was  therein.     And  when  the  man  came  down 

And  lay  a-dying,  round  the  chaplain  lit, 

And  asked  him  "  What  of  life  ?  "  and  he  replied, 

"  To  me  this  life  has  been  a  blasted  cell." 

And  so  he  died  like  any  other  man, 

And  thus  it  is  things  work  among  mankind. 

The  great  Josephi — the  piano  lord — 
When  in  the  land  of  California 


JO  SEP  HI  IN  BENICIA  157 

Was  duly  published  for  Benicia, 

Yet  never  once  put  in ;  and  then  arose 

Dame  Rumour  with  a  hundred  thousand  tongues, 

And  people  said  that  he  had  bust  his  wires, 

And  had  neuralgia  in  his  sounding-board, 

And  the  dyspepsia  in  his  pedal  joint, 

And  the  stricnosis  in  his  upper  keys,— 

Yet  all  was  false,  and  I  will  tell  you  why. 

The  day  before  he  was  to  have  gone  in 

Unto  his  glory  in  Benicia, 

There  came  a  visitor  whose  sun-grilled  face 

And  grand  prize  pumpkin  air  had  all  the  style 

Of  a  Maud  Muller's  father ;  and  this  man, 

Being  shown  in,  remarked,  "  I  s'pose  you  air 

Mister  Joseephee  ?  "     To  him  in  reply 

The  small  piano-smasher  nodded  "Yes." 

And  thus  the  agriculturist  went  on  : — 

"  I'm  from  Beneesh,  I  am,  and  I  belong 

To  the  Town  Council — that  is  my  posish. 

Down  here  disposin'  of  my  barley,  and 

I  thort  I'd  call  and  see  yer,  being  as 


1 58  JO  SEP  HI  IN  BENICIA 

Yer  comin'  down  ter-morrer  fur  to  play." 

"  Ja,  dot  is  so,"  replied  the  music  man. 

"  Ye  see,  yer  comin'  to  a  stranger  town, 

And  so  I  thort  I'd  let  yer  hev  some  pints 

About  the  programme.     We're  a-payin'  yer 

A  pot  o'  money,  and  of  course  yer  want 

To  suit  the  ordience."     "Veil,  vot  you  like," 

Exclaimed  the  great  musician.     "  I  can  blay 

Chopin,  Beethoven,  Liszt — ja  !  all  de  crate 

Gombosers,  and  I  gifes  you  vot  you  shoose." 

"  I  never  heerd  them  tunes,"  replied  his  guest. 

"  Do  yer  know  '  Nancy  Lee '  ?  "     "  Not  I,  bei  Gott !  " 

"  Nor  '  Mary  Ann '  ?  "     "  Nein  "  (very  haughtily). 

"  The  '  Spanish  Dona ' — the  '  Monastery  Bells '  ?  " 

"  Gott's  dammerwetter  !     Himmelspotzen — NEIN  ! " 

"  Wall,  now,  whar  did  ye  learn  ?     My  darter  Sue 

Goes  to  Miss  Lynch's,  and  she  knows  'em  all, 

An'  plays  'em  all  by  heart  right  straight  along. 

I  never  thought  her  no  great  shakes,  and  yet 

She's  clean  ahead  of  you."     A  gloomy  pause 

Ensued,  and  two  long  glares.     Then  he  set  on, 


JO  SEP  HI  IN  BENICIA  1 59 

"  What  kind  o'  dancing  music  are  ye  gwine 

To  fetch  along?  for  that's  the  heavy  jerk." 

"  Tantz  musik  /"     Oh,  the  horror  of  the  voice 

Of  great  Josephi  when  he  heard  these  words. 

"Yes,  certinly.     Ain't  ye  a-goin'  to  play 

Fur  dancing  arter  supper  ?     Wot  d'ye  s'pose 

We're  gwine  to  pay  yer  fur  ?  "     (Here  came  the  squall.) 

"  Go  to  der  Teufel  mit  your  tantz  musik  ! 

Dere-to  your  tauter  also.     Sapperment ! 

Verflucht  sei  deine  Seele — do  you  dink 

I  coom  to  blay  fur  caddie  ?     I  ton't  go 

Unto  Benicia.     Dell  your  veller-bigs 

Your  tauter  blays  in  my  blace — in  de  blace 

Of  Herr  Josephi — do  you  oonderstand, 

You  hundert  tousend  plasted  Schweinigel j '" 

And  in  the  rustic's  face  he  slammed  the  door. 


He  did  not  play  in  fair  Benicia, 
And  in  that  town  he  is  not  popular ; 


160  JO  SEP  HI  IN  BENICIA 

And  in  its  leading  circles  seven  out 
Of  eight  regard  him  as  a  German  fraud, 
Who  cannot  even  play  "  My  Mary  Ann." 
And  thus  it  is  they  think  he  is  a  sell, 
And  thus  it  is  things  work  among  mankind. 


THE  STORY  OF  A  LIE 

WHO  asks  an  ape  to  throw  a  coco-nut 
Should  take  it  not  amiss  if  it  be  thrown 
On  his  own  head,  as  echo  answers  song. 


There  was  a  man  named  Jesse,  who  was  called 

The  greatest  liar  in  Connecticut. 

For  there  are  giants  among  the  Brobdingnags. 


It  was  a  burning  day,  and  William  Hoop 
Sat  in  the  shade,  when  Jess  came  riding  by. 

When  wolves  run  past  your  door-step,  let  them  run. 
ii 


1 62  THE  STORY  OF  A  LIE 

But  William  cried,  "  Stop  for  a  moment,  Jess, 
And  tell  us  a  big  lie."     Jesse  liked  it  not. 
Ne'er  ask  a  hangman  how  to  tie  a  noose. 


But  hastily  and  sadly  he  replied, 

"  This  is  no  time  for  lying  now ;  oh,  woe  !  " 

A  wanton  widow  may  wear  darkest  weeds. 

"  Your  Uncle  Sol  died  very  suddenly 

An  hour  ago,  and  you  would  have  me  lie  ! " 

Who  weaveth  nets  is  often  caught  in  them. 

"  And  I  am  riding  for  the  coroner, 

And  for  a  coffin.     William,  learn  from  this 

Never  while  living  ask  a  man  to  lie." 

Then  William  ran  in  and  told  his  wife, 

And  he  and  she  and  all  the  family 

Burst  into  tears.     The  thistle  soon  bears  thorns. 


THE  STORY  OF  A  LIE  163 

And  in  his  waggon,  leaving  everything, 
They  posted  off  and  on,  four  miles  away. 
The  eagle  hastens  at  the  eaglet's  cry. 


And  when  arrived  they  found  the  family 
In  the  large  kitchen,  but  in  ne'er  a  grief. 
It  pains  a  man  at  times  to  miss  his  pain. 

There  Uncle  Sol  was  buried — to  the  eyes, 
In  a  great  water-melon,  lush  and  red. 
Life's  sweetest  things  are  water  after  all : 

Which  rises  in  a  mist,  and  comes  again 
As  rainy  tears.     And  William  almost  wept 
For  rage,  because  he  had  no  cause  to  cry. 

But  after  this  he  never  did  entreat 

Another  man  to  tell  a  lie  to  him. 

Burnt  child  seeks  not  a  second  time  the  fire. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SAINT  ANTHONY 

THE  seek-no-further  face  of  loveliness, 
The  perfect  form  of  fawn-like  springfulness, 
Rich  as  a  bonanza  just  unbound : 
Catherine  Van  Peyster,  of  Fifth  Avenue. 


She  lived  a  year  in  Europe — but  for  aye 
In  all  the  hearts  of  all  who  met  her  there ; 
And  then  her  pa  allowed  her  boundless  cash, 
Which  she  laid  out  in  glorious  works  of  art. 


Such  as  the  dream-like  dresses  made  by  Worth, 
And  heavenly  hats  by  Virot,  and  all  things 
Refined,  aesthetic,  swell,  and  classical ; 
Yea,  even  a  picture — she  bought  everything. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SAINT  ANTHONY  165 

'Tis  true  it  was  a  picture  of  herself, 
And  when  she  ordered  it  she  simply  said, 
"  I  know  that  I  am  very  beautiful, 
My  mirror  tells  me  that — distinctively ; 


"  But  I  am  also  very  clever  too, 

For  I  am  of  a  clever  family, 

Papa  and  sisters  all  are  awful  smart ; 

Now  you  must  make  it  somehow  sparkle  out 


"  In  what  you  paint.     And  as  for  me  I  guess 
I'll  show  you  how  to  fix  it — wait  a  bit. 
Ain't  there  a  saint  they  call  Saint  Catherine  ? 
One  of  my  beaux,  I  think,  once  called  me  that." 


"  St\  Illustrissima"  the  artist  said, 
"  Dere  is  a  Santa  Catarina,  who 
Is  beautiful  most  of  the  oder  sants, 
Vitch  giusto  suit  so  lovely  mad  as  you  ! 


1 66  THE  LEGEND  OF  SAINT  ANTHONY 

"And  she  do  always  hold  opon  a  vheel." 
"  I  see  ! "  cried  Miss  Van  Peyster — "just  the  thing, 
The  wheel  of  fortune — and  the  loveliest  saint ; 
That's  me  exactly.      What  a  perfect  fit !  " 


And  so  'twas  painted,  and  the  painted  pair, 
Saint  Catherine  and  Miss  Catherine,  went  across 
Unto  New  York  ;  and  many  people  came 
To  call  and  worship — or  to  make  believe. 


And  with  the  rest  came  Mr.  Anthony, 
A  blooming  broker,  and  a  mighty  man, 
Who  did  not  think  small  brewings  of  himself, 
Albeit  his  studies  had  been  very  small, 


And  very  few  i'  the  heap.     His  face  and  form 
Were  greasiness  and  grossness  well  combined, 
With  sneeriness  and  nearness  in  the  eyes ; 
He  seemed  a  kind  of  coarsest  Capuchin. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  SAINT  ANTHONY  167 

And  much  he  did  admire  the  quaint  conceit 
Of  being  taken  as  a  holy  saint, 
And  said,  "  I'd  like  to  try  that  thing  myself. 
How  could  a  feller  fix  it Catherine  ?  " 


"  Easy  enough,"  replied  the  beautiful : 
"  You've  only  got  to  send  your  photograph 
Out  to  my  man  in  Florence,  and  to  say, 
'  Vous  peignez  moi  comme  le  Saint  Anthony' 

"  I'll  write  it  for  you  if  you  have  a  card, 
And  he  will  fix  it  for  you  comme  ilfaut" 
That  very  hour  the  heavy  shaver  wrote, 
And  sent  the  order  for  his  portraiture. 


And  in  due  time  'twas  done — and  further  on 
'Twas  in  the  Custom  House — and  thence  'twas  sent 
To  the  Spring  Exhibition  in  New  York, 
There  was  no  time  to  send  it  to  "  the  House." 


i68  THE  LEGEND  OF  SAINT  ANTHONY 

And  Anthony  himself  beheld  it  not 
Till  it  had  hung  a  week  upon  "  the  walls," 
And  all  the  newspapers  had  served  it  up, 
And  all  the  world  had  merry  made  withal. 


Yea,  he  was  in  it — clad  in  dirty  rags, 
A  vile  abomination.     In  his  hand 
A  monstrous  rosary.     The  Sunday  Press 
Said  'twas  a  rope  of  onions,  meant  to  feed 


The  monstrous  hog  which  filled  the  canvas  up, 
So  vast  in  its  proportions  that  it  seemed 
As  Anthony  were  waiting  on  the  hog, 
And  not  the  hog  upon  Saint  Anthony. 


In  it  and  in  for  it.      Just  as  the  Saint 
Of  Padua  is  painted,  with  his  pig, 
Only  a  little  more  so.     And  thus  ends 
The  tale  of  the  great  hog  and  Anthony. 


A   RUSSIAN   LYRIC 

Am — {<  Denkst  du  daran  mein  tapfre  Lagienka." 

"  SALTOKOFF  SKUPCHIROFSKY,"  said  the  ruler 

Of  Russia  to  his  captain  of  the  guard, 
I  will  retire ;  the  night  is  growing  cooler 

Have  all  the  troops  been  posted  in  the  yard  ?  " 
"  They  have,  my  liege,  and  in  the  tower  o'er  you 

The  watchman,  with  an  opera-glass,  afar 
Looks  out  to  see  that  no  one  comes  to  bore  you  : 

Bogu  Tsarachnie  !     God  protect  the  Tsar  ! " 


"What  have  you  done  with  him  who  came  this  morning, 
And  wanted  me  to  buy  a  lightning-rod  ?  " 

"  He  sleeps  beneath  the  Neva,  as  a  warning 
To  others  like  him,  not  as  yet  in  quod." 


1 70  A  R USSIAN  L  YRIC 

"  The  girl  who  bored  us  for  a  contribution 
To  send  her  blessed  clergyman  afar  ?  " 

"  She's  strangled  by  the  Seventh  Resolution  : 
Bogu  Tsarachnie  !     God  protect  the  Tsar  !  " 


"  And  where  is  he  who  gave  us  the  conniptions, 

That  cheeky  man  from  the  United  States, 
"  Who  came  unto  my  bedside  for  subscriptions 

To — what  was  it  ? — the  '  Life  of  Sergeant  Bates '  ?  " 
"  Upon  a  special  train  that  man  is  flying 

Unto  Siberia  in  a  third-class  car ; 
Thou  badest  him  '  dry  up  ! '  and  he  is  drying  : 

Bogu  Tsarachnie  !      God  protect  the  Tsar  !  " 

"  And  where  is  he  who  bored  us  for  insurance 
On  life  or  fire,  who  down  the  chimney  came  ?  " 

"  My  liege,  beneath  our  feet  in  deepest  durance 
He  pays  with  penance  for  his  little  game." 

"  And,  after  him,  the  pedlar  who  came  plungin' 
Into  the  parlour,  smoking  a  cigar  ?  " 


A  RUSSIAN  L  YRIC  171 

"  Ask  of  the  vipers  in  the  palace  dungeon  : 
Bogu  Tsarachnie  !      God  protect  the  Tsar  !  " 


"  And  that  young  man  who  always  kept  a-saying, 

'  That  is  the  kind  of  hair-pin  that  I  am '  ?  " 
"  My  liege,  the  strychnine  in  his  vitals  playing 

May  tell  you  how  I  stopped  that  kind  of  flam. 
"  And  he  who  at  this  day  is  still  repeating, 

'  What,  never,  never  ?  ";      "  In  a  butt  of  tar 
We  coopered  him.      His  heart's  no  longer  beating : 

Bogu  Tsarachnie  !     God  protect  the  Tsar  !  " 

"  And  where  is  he  who  on  the  imperial  fences 

Inscribed  Po/s  Bitters,  and  Take  Fooler's  Pills  ?  " 
"  My  lord,  his  medicines  were  no  defences, 

In  Hades  he  atones  for  earthly  ills." 
"  And  that  confounded  nuisance  of  a  Scotch  Guard 

Who  played  the  bagpipes  up  and  down  the  car  ?  " 
"  My  lord,  the  imperial  headsman  wears  his  watch-guard 

Bogu  Tsarachnie  !     God  protect  the  Tsar  !  " 


172  A  RUSSIAN  LYRIC 

"  Captain,  'tis  well.     Now  telegraph  to  London 

That  every  Nihilist  has  had  his  dose, 
And  that  a  fresh  conspiracy  is  undone, 

And  keep  the  gum-drop,  corn-ball  peddlers  close 
Who  spread  sedition  in  the  trains  to  'stress  me ; 

And  keep  the  gates  of  anarchy  ajar ; 
So  may  Saint  Feoderskidobry  bless  thee  ! 

Bogu  Tsarachnie  !     God  protect  the  Tsar  !  " 


MELODRAMNATION 

"  Now  Mr.  Gallagher  is  satisfied." 

So  says  the  Boston  Post.     The  facts  are  these  : 

He  is  the  chief  of  a  theatric  club, 

And  as  he  deems  that  he  can  melodram, 

He  melodrammed  for  it  a  mighty  piece 

Of  thundering  incidents  and  awful  scenes, 

Which  called  for  just  nine  actors.     And  they  all 

Declared  that  each  had  got  the  worst  and  curst 

Of  all  the  parts,  and  that  'twas  written  thus 

To  boom  the  fame  of  selfish  Gallagher ; 

So  the  first  night  they  came  upon  the  boards, 

With  hearts  like  hornets  and  with  souls  like  snakes 

And  feeling  like  old  pizen,  all  agog 

To  be  revenged  upon  the  common  foe. 

Who  was  to  act  the  hero.      Act  the  first : 


174  MELODRAMNATION 

The  hero  and  his  mother  meet  to  part, 

And  on  her  shoulders  and  o'er  all  her  bust 

The  parent  had  put  pins  by  papersful, 

Till  she  was  like  a  frightful  porcupine ; 

And  when  she  pressed  her  darling  to  her  breast, 

The  pins  en  masse  entered  his  very  soul, 

And  pricked  his  nose,  and  ran  into  his  cheeks, 

So  that  he  howled  ;  but  his  mamma  held  on, 

Easing  her  heart  with  rapturous  revenge 

While  agonizing  his.     In  the  next  act 

He  was  on  shipboard,  and  'twas  in  the  plot 

That  he  should  be  knocked  down  and  cuffed  about 

By  a  most  cruel  captain ;  and,  God  knows, 

The  captain  played  that  part  most  perfectly, 

Since  in  the  start  he  went  for  Gallagher 

With  a  belaying-pin,  and  laid  him  out 

Secundum  artem^  and  then  let  him  up, 

Only  to  let  into  him  twice  as  hot, 

'Mid  rapturous  hurrahs.     In  the  next  act 

The  hero  led  the  crew  to  mutiny, 

And  Gallagher  was  glorious  ;  but  just  then 


MELODRAMNA  TION  175 

Some  one  let  down  the  trap  on  which  he  stood, 

And  there  he  was,  up  to  his  waist  in  stage, 

Unable  to  get  up  or  to  go  down, 

And  thus  they  kept  him  in  captivity 

While  all  the  audience  guyed  him.      When  he  strove 

To  climb  they  lowered  him,  and  when  he  sought 

To  dodge  beneath  they  highered  him  again ; 

So  he  went  up  and  down  like  Erie  stock 

Until  the  scene  was  shifted.     In  the  next 

He  fought  the  villain  of  the  play,  and  this 

Was  Mr.  Hencoop  Smith,  a  stalwart  rogue, 

Extremely  high  on  muscle,  and  the  way 

He  lathered  Gallagher  about  the  stage 

Was  Awful  Gardener.     And  when  Smith  should  cry, 

"  Forgive  me — I  am  crushed  !  "  and  Gallagher 

Replied,  "  I'll  have  your  life  !  "  the  hero  lay 

Under  the  table,  while  his  adversary 

Bemauled  him  with  a  chair-leg.     It  was  o'er, 

And  Gallagher,  all  black  and  blue,  went  home 

To  plotter  out  revenge.     On  the  next  night 

The  piece  was  adverred  to  be  played  again, 


1 76  MELODRAMNA  TION 

And  Gallagher  sent  round  a  messenger, 

Who  said  he  was  too  ill  to  play  his  part, 

But  he  would  send  a  substitute.     He  did — 

A  giant-like  ferocious  prize-fighter, 

Under  another  name.     And  how  he  played  ! 

He  squeezed  the  mother  into  raving  fits, 

And  jerked  her  wig  away  by  accident, 

And  threw  the  cruel  captain  down  the  trap, 

And  larruped  all  the  actors  ;  and  when  Smith 

Came  on  to  fight,  he  took  him  by  the  heels 

And  mopped  the  stage  with  him  until  'twas  clean, 

Then  hurled  him  through  the  flat.     All  was  a  wreck  : 

And  in  the  front  seat  sat  the  Gallagher 

And  laughed  until  he  cried.     Revenge  is  sweet ! 


A   TALE   OF   IDAHO 

WHEN  they  had  finished  the  ethnology, 
And  polished  up  the  climate  and  the  crops, 
And  glorified  the  different  kinds  of  bugs, 
And  told  in  turn  their  lies  about  the  snakes, 
And  fish  and  deer  and  things,  of  Idaho, 
A  pensive  cuss  in  spectacles  inquired, 
"  All  this  is  well  enough ;  now  how  about 
Your  educational  facilities  ? 
And  let  me  see  in  dots  the  time  they  go." 

"  And  that's  the  only  thing  we  really  lack," 
Replied  the  Ancient,  with  a  silvery  sigh ; 
"  We  do  defect  in  that  ostensibly. 
We  have  the  schools,  but  then  we  cannot  git 

The  folks  to  run  'em,  or  who  will  remain 
12 


178  A  TALE  OF  IDAHO 

Adjacent  to  'em,  for  they  will  not  keep." 

"  How  ! — do  they  die  ?"     "  Wall,  some  on  'em  expired, 

Though  Idaho  ain't  an  expirin'  State ; 

But  I  will  tell  you  just  the  time  they  go. 


"  We  had  a  fine  young  fellow  from  the  East ; 
He  licked  the  boys,  and  also  kissed  the  gals, 
And  was  all  round  uncommon  popular, 
Bern'  likewise  an  awful  fightin'  man, 
And  there  he  did  slop  over.     For  one  day 
He  met  a  grizzly  bar  upon  the  prowl, 
And  whistled  to  it,  and  the  grizzly  come  ; 
But  when  he  went  he  carried  by  express 
All  of  that  fine  young  man  inside  of  him  ; 
And  that  is  just  about  the  time  they  go. 

"  We  had  another  from  Connecticut : 
A  widder  run  him  down,  and  married  him 
Inside  the  very  school-house  where  he  taught, 
Just  as  an  Injun  cooks  a  terrapin 


A   TALE  OF  IDAHO  179 

In  its  own  shell,  or  as  a  lovely  deer 

Is  sometimes  aboriginally  biled 

Inside  of  its  own  skin,  for  that  poor  man 

Has  been  in  bilin'  water  ever  sense : 

They  say  she  makes  it  solemn  hot  for  him. 

And  that  is  just  about  the  time  they  go. 

"  The  third  was  well  enough,  but  he  was  lame  ; 
I  needn't  tell  you  how  that  one  got  spiled ; 
For  sense  he  couldn't  run,  one  day,  of  course, 
The  Injuns  overtook  him,  and  the  way 
They  treated  him  was  pretty  nigh  as  bad 
As  if  they  had  been  widders,  and  that  man 
Their  lawful  spouse.      They  also  made  it  hot, 
Because  they  took  and  briled  him  at  the  stake. 
And  that  is  just  about  the  time  they  go. 

"  Then  we  tried  women-folks  to  keep  the  school. 
We  writ  for  one.     She  came ;  and  as  she  lit 
Down  from  the  stage,  a  man  proposed  to  her 


i  So  A  TALE  OF  IDAHO 

And  was  accepted,  and  she  married  him 
That  very  night ;  in  fact,  within  an  hour 
He  gin  a  party,  and  we  had  a  dance  ; 
But  Education  suffered  all  the  same, 
As  she  declined  to  teach,  bein'  inclined 
To  conjugate — excuse  my  little  joke  ; 
But  that  is  just  about  the  time  they  go. 

"The  second — wall,  I  took  the  second  one 

About  the  middle  of  the  week  she  come  ; 

But  telegraphed  unto  the  Institute, 

'  Send  on  some  more ;  keep  sending  of  'em  on.' 

And  so  they  kept  a-comin',  but  they  kep' 

A-going  speedier  than  they  arrove, 

For  the  third  lady  was  abducted  by 

A  highwayman  before  she  got  to  us — 

She  took  it  awful  kindly,  I  believe. 

And  that  is  just  about  the  time  they  go." 

"  But  why,"  exclaimed  the  wondering  traveller, 
"  Don't  you  obtain  a  scareful,  ugly  one — 


A   TALE  OF  IDAHO  181 

Some  hideous  old  faggot,  just  like  that 
Tremendous  terror  with  the  lantern-jaws 
By  yonder  ticket- window  ?     She  would  keep." 
"  Alas  !  how  strange,"  replied  the  Ancient  Man  ; 
"  How  is  it  that  you  people  from  the  East 
Will  never  understand  us  pioneers  ? 
That  woman  is  my  wife — the  very  one 
I  cut  away  from  school ;  and  she's  by  far 
The  handsomest  there  was  in  all  the  drove. 
For  that  is  just  about  the  time  they  go." 


A   CALIFORNIAN   ROMANCE 

KNOW'ST  thou  the  burning  lay  of  Dante's  own, 

"  Nix  mangiare  e  il  diavolo  ! 

Ma  peggior  la  donna  "  ?  that's  to  say, 

"  'Tis  hard  to  be  hard  up,  but  harder  still 

To  get  ahead  of  women."     Never  much, 

While  in  Night's  cushion  stars  like  pin-heads  shine. 

Oh,  listen  to  me,  for  the  tale  I  tell 

Is  of  Chicago,  and  the  latest  out, 

And  by  the  noble  Tribune  novelist. 

"  Say,  do  you  mean  it,  honest  Injun,  now  ?  " 

Said  Vivian  O'Riley  to  his  sire. 

"  And  faith  I  do,"  the  earnest  sire  replied  : 

"  Marry  this  girl  if  so  ye  choose,  me  son, 


A  CALIFORN1AN  ROMANCE  183 

But — if  ye  do — the  divil  a  ha'penny 
Of  all  me  fortune  will  yees  ever  see, 
While  in  Night's  cushion  stars  like  pin-hids  shine." 


Two  hours  have  passed,  and  so  have  eight  or  ten 

Slow-rolling  tramway  cars,  until  there  comes 

The  one  which  Vivian  wants,  and  soon  it  lands 

The  lover  at  the  door  of  Pericles 

O'Rourke,  the  father  of  bellissima^ 

The  Lady  Ethelberta.     Lo,  she  sits 

In  her  boudoir  (the  high-toned  word  for  "  room  " ), 

Casting  her  soul  in  reverie  o'er  the  trees, 

While  in  Night's  cushion  stars  like  pin-heads  shine. 


"  I  have  bad  news  for  you,  my  utmost  own," 
Said  Vivian  in  sad  tones  unto  his  love. 
"  Cusses  and  crocuses  upon  my  luck  ! 
And  damns  and  daffodils  on  everything  ! " 
And  as  he  spoke  there  came  into  his  face 


1 84  A  CALIFORNIAN  ROMANCE 

A  grey  old  scaly  look  which  seemed  to  say, 

Don't  bluff  or  you' II  be  called.     "  My  dad  and  I 

Have  had  a  round  about,  and  he  has  dis — 

Sis — sis — inherited  me ;  and  I  have 

Been  given  the  g.-b.  on  your  account, 

My  be — b — beau — tiful.     And  I  am  now 

A  beg — egg — eggar  for  you,  Bertie  dear  ! 

While  in  Night's  cushion  stars  like  pin-heads  shine." 


Her  soft  dusk  eyes  grew  wide  and  serious. 


"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "I  am  regular  poor, 

Poor  as  a  busted  Indian,  and  of  course 

It  follows  in  the  logic  of  our  life 

That  I  must  give  you  up.     I  cannot  ask 

One  in  the  golden  glory  of  events 

To  come  and  share  a  fate  which  runs  upon 

A  thousand  annual  dollars.     Ne'er  a  case. 

While  in  Night's  cushion  stars  like  pin-heads  shine." 


A  CALIFORNIAN  ROMANCE  185 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  incarnadine, 

Rich,  passionate,  scarlet-sanguine  crimson  flush 

Surging  into  her  cheeks.     If  it  had  been 

Kfttllj  'tis  probable  that  Vivian 

Would  have  gone  under;  but  a  flush 

Could  never  scare  him  or  his  similar, 

While  in  Night's  cushion  stars  like  pin-heads  shine. 


"  Oh,  Vivian  ! "  she  gurgled,  like  a  dove, 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  I  will  let  up  on  you  ? 

And  do  you  deem  I  would  go  back  upon 

The  note  I  signed,  and  run  to  protest  ? — no — 

Not  while  the  snowy  paper  of  my  truth 

Is  quired  by  the  young-eyed  cherubim, 

And  in  Night's  cushion  stars  like  pin-heads  shine." 


Three  months  or  ninety  days  went  by,  and  then 
Upon  a  golden  Californian 
December  afternoon,  with  azure  skies 


186  A  CALIFORNIAN  ROMANCE 

Like  those  of  summer  as  they  are  produced 

In  less  expensive  countries,  men  beheld 

A  diamondaine  wedding  at  the  house 

Of  Ethelberta's  sire.     As  Vivian 

And  his  fair  bride  sat  in  the  car — ri — age 

Which  bore  them  to  the  station,  ever  on 

She  gazed  upon  him  like  a  Lamia 

With  a  strange  look,  which  one  might  call,  in  fact, 

A  weirdly  precious  smile.     He  gazed  at  her. 

"And  so  you  would  not  leave  me,  love? "  he  cooed, 

"  Even  when  you  thought  me  poor  ?  "     And  she  replied, 

"  Never,  my  precious  one.     I  learned  lang  syne 

That  when  a  sucker  once  drops  off  the  hook 

It  never  bites  again.     And  well  you  know 

That  you  were  on  the  point  of  dropping  off, 

And  so  your  pa  and  I  put  up  the  job 

So  as  to  land  you,  dear — as  faith  we  did — 

A  little  quicker.     Oh,  men,  men,  men,  men ! 

If  ye  thus  round,  girls  will  get  square  with  you, 

While  in  Night's  cushion  stars  like  pin-heads  shine." 


THE  STORY  OF  MR.  SCROPER,  ARCHITECT 

YES,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  happened — that,  too,  with  all  due  respect 
To  the  memory  of  Scroper,  late  departed  architect — 
How  it  came  that  he  departed  so  abruptly  in  the  train ; 
Why  it  was  he's  been  so  late,  too,  in  returnin'  back  again. 

Now  some  folks  are  born  to  greatness,  some  achieve  it,  as  you've  read 
And  some  justly  stand  and  take  it  as  it  dollops  on  their  head ; 
But  in  this  sublime  Republic,  where  it's  help  and  help  again, 
We  all  generally  make  it  in  cahoot  with  other  men. 

Scroper  was  a  fine  young  fellow,  of  a  monstrous  enterprise ; 
Likewise  really  ambitious,  for  he  was  so  bound  to  rise, 
And  he  left  no  stone  unturned — nor  a  log — he  rolled  'em  all, 
Till  at  last  he  got  the  contract  for  our  new  great  City  Hall. 


1 88  MR.  SCROPER,  ARCHITECT 

Now,  of  all  our  mortal  actors  here  upon  this  earthly  stage, 
The  contractors  have  the  hardest  parts  to  play,  I  will  engage ; 
Specially  in  bran-new  cities,  just  between  the  knead  and  bake, 
And  where  all  the  population  are  severely  on  the  make. 


What  between  the  Common  Council,  and  the  more  uncommon  sort, 
Politicians,  Press,  and  preachers,  Scroper  fell  uncommon  short. 
All  of  such  as  come  a-plummin'  when  a  puddin's  to  be  had ; 
All  against  his  best  contractin'  counteractin'  mighty  bad. 


Therefore  when  this  edificial  had  got  up  his  edifice, 
All  who'd  not  been  edifishing  with  him  soon  got  up  a  hiss ; 
Said  the  stuff  upon  the  buildin'  was  the  worst  that  could  be  had, 
Likewise  called  the  architexture  architechnically  bad. 


So  it  came  one  solemn  evenin'  in  a  Presbyterian  rain 

Mr.  Scroper  all  in  silence  gently  took  the  Northern  train ; 

All  he  left  was  one  small  message  to  a  friend  who  shared  his  home,- 

When  the  darned  affair  blows  over,  telegraph  for  me  to  come. 


MR.  SCROPER,  ARCHITECT  189 

So  he  sat  one  summer  mornin',  far  away  in  Montreal, 
Musin'  on  his  recent  patrons,  while  at  heart  he  darned  'em  all, 
When  there  came  a  little  letter  datin'  from  his  recent  home,— 
"  All  the  thing  is  quite  blown  over,  back  again  we  bid  you  come. 


"  For  last  night  we  had  a  tempest \ — while  the  mighty  thunder  rang, 
Up  there  came  a  real  guster,  which  blew  down  the  whole  shebang. 
(Shebang's  a  word  from  Hebrew,  meanin'  Seven,  sayeth  Krupp, 
And  applied  to  any  shanty  where  they  play  at  seven-up.) 


"  Truly  it  was  well  blown  over  all  to  splinders  in  the  night, 
And  the  winds  of  heaven  are  blowing  o'er  the  ruins  as  I  write" 
Gentlemen,  the  story's  over.     It  would  last  for  many  a  day 
If  it  told  of  every  buildin'  built  upon  the  swindlin'  lay. 


THAT   INTERESTIN'   BOY 

HE  sat  upon  the  window-sill  and  jingled  ninety  cents.  There  came 
along  another  boy,  who  said,  "  How  are  you.  Pence  ?  You're  goin'  out 
a-Christmassin'j  I  guess,  among  the  Dutch,  to  buy  some  gifts."  The 
other  spoke  :  "  No — not  exactly  much.  I  am  in  luck,  this  year,  I  am. 
I  haven't  any  bills.  My  sister's  sick,  and  can't  expect  no  presents  but 
her  pills.  My  brother  Ben's  in  Canada,  away  upon  the  wing.  Of 
course,  you  know  he  can't  suppose  I'll  buy  him  anything.  My  mother 
pulled  my  hair,  last  night,  until  she  made  me  squall.  Of  course  she 
knows  that  she's  gone  up  for  anything  at  all."  "  But  there's  your  father," 
said  his  friend.  "  Well, — yes — I  really  thought  that  I  was  stuck  on  the 
old  man,  and  that  he  had  me  caught,  and  I  was  kinder  looking  round 
to  hunt  him  up  a  pipe ;  but  then,  this  very  mornin'  he  hit  me  such  a 
wipe  !  That  fixed  his  Christmas  goose  for  him,  and  took  away  his  joy. 
Now  all  this  money's  goin'  to  a  good  and  clever  boy,  to  buy  him  lots  of 
pea-nuts  and  candy,  I'll  engage — with  caramels ;  and  that  good  boy  is 
just  my  size  and  age." 


MISS   MILES,  THE   TELEGRAPH   GIRL 

Thy  heart  is  like  some  icy  lake, 
On  whose  cold  brink  I  stand  ; 

Oh,  buckle  on  my  spirit's  skate, 
And  take  me  by  the  hand  ! 

And  lead,  thou  living  saint,  the  way 

To  where  the  ice  is  thin, 
That  it  may  break  beneath  my  feet, 

And  let  a  lover  in. 

Spiritualistic  Poetry. 

SINCE  Soul  first  basked  in  Passion's  sun, 

I  always  ran  to  seed 
In  seeking  One  who'd  gone  and  done 

Some  great  heroic  deed ; 
And  deemed  I'd  find  Life's  Earnest  Truth 

In  Gloriana  Clarke, 
Whose  eyes  were  like  two  carriage  lamps 

Advancing  through  the  dark. 


192  MISS  MILES,  THE  TELEGRAPH  GIRL 

But  as  the  rose  of  morning  fades 

Before  the  fire  of  noon, 
Or  sparrows  yield  in  sylvan  glades 

To  mocking-birds  in  June, 
My  Gloriana's  stock  went  down — 

Its  wheat  all  turned  to  chaff- 
When  I  got  in  with  Mary  Miles, 

Who  ran  the  telegraph. 

Her  brow  betokened  serious  life ; 

I  knew  my  final  queen ; 
A  soul  divine  in  gaiter-boots, 

A  Dream  in  crinoline. 
Her  parasol  a  glory  seemed 

Around  a  vivid  saint, 
The  whole  one  spirit-photograph 

Illumed  with  heavenly  paint. 

And  thus  she  lifted  up  her  voice, 
That  mission-mantled  maid ; 


MISS  MILES,  THE  TELEGRAPH  GIRL  193 

And  thus  she  spoke  with  golden  grace, 

And  sacredly  she  said — 
A-pointing  at  me  all  the  time 

With  that  same  parasol, 
The  light  which  gleams  from  silent  lands 

Around  her  seemed  to  fall — 


"  You've  told  of  great  and  holy  deeds — 

I  s'pose  they  all  are  true — 
But  in  our  telegraphic  line 

We've  some  adventures,  too  ; 
And  though  I  do  not  like  to  boast 

Of  what  I  ever  done, 
One  thing  my  Moral  Consciousness 

Declares  was  Number  One. 


"  Last  Fall  I  was  in  Tennessee 
A-travelling  might  and  main, 

When  all  at  once  the  engine  broke — 
They  couldn't  run  the  train ; 


194  MISS  MILES,  THE  TELEGRAPH  GIRL 

And  if  another  train  should  come 
'Twould  rather  make  us  scream." 

List  to  the  glorious  deed  she  did, 
This  angel  of  my  dream. 


"  I  saw  a  telegraphic  line 

Was  running  by  our  rout, 
Though  not  a  house  or  a  machine 

Was  anywhere  about. 
And  the  conductor  said,  said  he, 

With  his  wild  eyes  of  light : 
'  Miss  Miles,  if  we'd  a  battery, 

I'd  fix  this  scrape  all  right. 

"  *  I'd  send  'em  down  a  telegram 

Some  twenty  miles  below, 
And  ask  for  help.'  I  looked  at  him — 

*  I'll  fix  the  business,  Joe. 
Is  there  a  pair  of  nippers  here  ? 

If  so,  those  nippers  bring ; 


MISS  MILES,  THE  TELEGRAPH  GIRL  195 

And  if  you  can't,  a  sharp-edged  file 
Would  be  a  heaven-sent  thing.' " 


"  Unshadowed  girl !  I  see  the  dodge," 

I  cried  in  rapturous  joy ; 
"And  didst  thou  climb  the  post  thyself?" 

Said  she,  "  I  did,  my  boy. 
A  higher  law  of  moral  truth 

Gave  courage  to  my  soul ; 
I  did  not  show  my  garters  once 
In  going  up  the  pole. 

"No  poet  ever  felt  such  thrills 

In  touching  of  his  lyre 
As  I  did  when  I  found  there  came 

A  message  through  the  wire. 
That  wire  I  cut,  and  'tween  my  teeth 

I  held  it — ay,  with  pride — 
And  with  my  tongue  the  current  clicked 

To  the  wire  on  t'other  side. 


I96  MISS  MILES,  THE  TELEGRAPH  GIRL 

"  On  one  side  came  the  message  in 
From  some  man  in  New  York  : 
'  Buy  if  you  can,  at  ninety-five, 

Five  thousand  sides  of  pork! 
And  this  same  electricity 

I  changed  as  in  a  flash  : 
'  Send  down  an  engine  right  away, 
Or  we  shall  go  to  smash! 


"  The  engine  came,  and  all  were  saved— 

Yet  life  is  but  a  Dream. 
I  iive — thou  livest  in  a  cloud : 
We  are  not  what  we  seem. 
Still  craving  for  the  Infinite 

In  Time's  ideal  lodge, 
I  grasped  a  truth — yet  after  all 
'Twas  but  an  earthly  dodge." 

I  gazed  upon  that  spirit  grand, 
Upon  my  knees  I  sank, 


MISS  MILES,  THE  TELEGRAPH  GIRL  197 

And  from  mine  eyes  the  burning  sand 

The  scalding  tear-drops  drank. 
Then  soft  she  smiled  :  "  If  deeds  like  this 

Can  yield  such  victory, 
And  I  am  in  your  line,  my  love, 

Then,  love,  I  yield  to  thee." 


Ho,  maidens  of  Vienna's  show  ! 

Ho,  matrons  of  Lucerne  ! 
Look  out  for  us  next  summer,  when 

We  give  your  shop  a  turn. 
I  have  won  my  soul's  ideal, 

I  have  booked  her  for  a  wife ; 
And  the  Fancy  and  the  Real 

Are  united  in  my  life. 


AN  AMERICAN  COCK-TALE 

PROFESSOR  LUTHER  CRANMER  BANGS 
Has  travelled  in  Europe  more  than  a  year, 
And  no  one  need  ever  be  troubled  with  pangs 
At  telling  him  aught  which  he  thought  was  severe 
For  there's  ne'er  a  Yankee  of  any  size, 
No  matter  how  sharply  he  chaffs  or  slangs, 
That  can  boast  he  ever  has  taken  a  rise 
On  Professor  Luther  Cranmer  Bangs. 


He  was  the  man  whom  Dr.  Snayle 
Read  a  lecture  to  on  a  morning  call — 
Read  it  clear  through  from  bill  to  tail ; 
And  Bangs  like  Old  Piety  bore  it  all. 


AN  AMERICAN  COCK-TALE  199 

Said  Snayle,  when  the  sheets  were  all  up-read, 
"  I'm  a-going  with  this  to  Boston,  you  know  " — 
"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  his  listener  said : 
"  I  always  did  hate  those  Bostonians  so  ! " 


Well,  last  week  on  a  City  Atlas  'bus 
The  Professor  and  I  went  riding  down, 
While  the  driver  politely  gave  to  us 
Opinions  on  things  about  the  town. 
And  finding  my  friend  was  "  prone  to  receive," 
And  came  from  the  Western  land  afar, 
He  told  him  just  what  one  ought  to  believe 
In  politics,  piety,  love,  and  war. 

Then  glancing  at  Bangs,  who  sat  to  leeward, 

Looking  as  mild  as  cambric  tea, 

He  said  :  "  I  once  'ad — but  I  soon  got  cured 

Of — a  wish  to  go  to  Amerikee. 

I  was  tired  of  always  a-drivin'  these  cusses, 

And  so  I  thought  I  would  like  to  range  " 


200  AN  AMERICAN  COCK-TALE 

"You  were  right,"  said  Bangs.     " In  our  Yankee  'busses 
It's  the  driver  who  takes  (and  keeps)  the  change  ! " 


Sharp  glanced  the  driver  at  Bangs ;  then  said, 
"  What  scared  me  of  goin'  was  this,  d'ye  see, — 
I'd  a  friend  in  New  York,  whose  letters  I  read ; 
And  he  wrote  :  In  the  whole  of  your  country, 
He  'ad  looked  the  biggest  graveyards  through, 
Looked  'em  through  with  uncommon  keer, 
But  never  'ad  come  to  a  single  view 
Of  a  cove l  as  wos  aged  fifty  year. 

"  And  as  this  is  the  case  in  hevery  State, 
I  think  there's  nothink  on  hearth  for  cure'n 
A  chap  hof  a  fancy  to  hemigrate 
Like  readin'  of  them  graveyards  of  yourn. 
So  I  thought  I'd  rather  perlong  my  breath, 
Tho'  sometimes  here  a  fellow  they  hangs  " 


1  Cove,  a  word  erroneously  supposed  to  be  slang.     It  is  derived  from  the  Gypsy 
cwo  or  coviy  meaning  that — that  fellow,  that  thing. 


AN  AMERICAN  COCK-TALE  201 

'  You  are  right,  my  friend.     Choose  your  own  way  of  death, 
/go  in  for  that,"  said  Professor  Bangs. 


"  But  I  see  you  have  not  understood 

Why  no  aged  person  is  ever  found 

Among  us.     We  only  want  young  blood 

On  our  driving,  thriving,  Yankee  ground. 

Youth  alone  has  the  power  to  go  it ; 

Old  men  are  a  drag  on  putting  it  through, 

So  we  kill  them  off — and  our  tombstones  show  it- 

Before  they  arrive  at  forty-two." 

Here  the  driver  gave  a  long  cher — rup  / 
And  gazed  at  the  Yankee,  dark  and  wan, 
As  if  he  had  woke  the  wrong  passenger  up 
While  calmly  Professor  Bangs  went  on : 
"  In  walking  up  and  down  Broadway, 
Large  mourning  sign-boards  at  times  appear 
With  this  inscription  in  letters  grey — 
*  Elderly  persons  extinguished  here.1 


202  AN  AMERICAN  COCK -TALE 

"  And  they  put  in  your  hand  a  pamphlet  small, 
Adapted  to  people  of  different  stations, 
Which  cites  the  law,  and  exhorts  them  all 
To  dismiss  in  peace  their  old  relations. 
'Why  let  them  linger  in  a  vale,' 
It  states,  '  where  often  colds  they  catch  ? 
Send  them  to  us,  and  we'll  end  the  tale 
With  politeness,  humanity,  and  dispatch. 

"  '  N.B. — For  those  who  would  die  by  the  trigger 
We've  a  merciful  man  who's  a  practised  shot, 
With  an  elegant  room,  and  a  careful  nigger 
To  lay  them  genteelly  out  on  the  spot. 
Our  principal  has  a  chemist  of  fame, 
Whom  he  exclusively  employs  on 
Those  who  set  their  checks  on  a  different  game 
And  like  to  pass  to  heaven  by  poison.' 

"  'Tis  thus  the  ladies  generally  choose  it ; 
They  love  to  die  without  pain  or  pangs 


AN  AMERICAN  COCK-TALE  203 

By  a  nice  little  globule — who  could  refuse  it  ? 
None  but  a  man,"  said  Professor  Bangs. 
"A  saw  buck  extra  they  always  charge 
For  the  stylish  mode  of  extinguishing  breath. 
A  saw  buck's  ten  dollars.     It's  rather  large, 
But  then  it  ensures  you  a  cocktail  death." 


"  Vot  may  that  be  ?  "  said  the  driver,  meekly, 

In  the  tone  of  a  greatly  altered  man. 

I  observed  that  he  seemed  to  be  growing  weakly 

Since  the  Professor  his  story  began. 

"  A  cocktail's  a  tipple — America  vaunts  of  it — 

So  flavoured,  so  foamy,  so  spiced,  and  whirled, 

That  he  who  can  get  as  much  as  he  wants  of  it 

Very  soon  drinks  himself  out  of  the  world. 

"  'Tis  said  in  the  sky — right  over  Paris, 
Where  the  American  heaven  is  found, 
Where  everything  brick-like  and  fast  and  rare  is — 
The  cocks  with  tumblers  for  tails  run  round. 


204  AN  AMERICAN  COCK-TALE 

They  cut  to  the  bar  for  all  things  thinkable, — 
All  that  is  nice  is  a  gratis  boon, — 
Then  they  come  back  with  your  favourite  drinkable 
And  their  sickle-feather's  a  silver  spoon ! 


"  But  he  who  invented  the  cocktail  brew  is 
The  man  before  you.     Thus  came  the  hint : 
I  had  once  been  kissing  a  pretty  Jewess, 
Who  just  before  had  been  nibbling  mint ; 
And  in  order  to  recall  the  taste 
Which  I  found  in  pressing  her  luscious  two  lips, 
I  mingled  brandy  and  mint,  in  haste, 
With  sugar  and  ice — and  thus  made  Juleps. 

"  The  first  step  was,  therefore,  the  julep  perfected, 

Which  gives  us  a  menthal  spirit  of  wine ; 

And  finding  myself  thereby  respected, 

I  sought  to  make  bitter  and  sweet  combine. 

So  I  took  of  bitters  aromatic 

(I  prefer  the  tincture  of  bark  myself, 


AN  AMERICAN  COCK-TALE  205 

With  orange  flavoured,  but  if  you  lack  it, 
Try  any  kind  on  the  bar-room  shelf), 


"  And  I  fixed  them  with  sugar,  and  ice,  and  spirits, 
In  a  silver  tumbler,  lightning-quick,  sir, 
Which  I  shook  till  all  their  several  merits 
Were  combined  in  one  subtle  and  strange  elixir. 
Then  I  passed  it  through  a  silver  sieve 
Kept  carefully  free  from  spot  or  rust ; 
And  the  final  jimglorious  touch  to  give, 
I  threw  in  a  sprinkle  of  nutmeg-dust. 

"  And  I  am  told  by  the  spirit-rappers 

That  in  the  American  Paris-heaven, 

Though  they've  fancy  drinks  which  are  total  snappers, 

There's  nothing  better  than  mine  are  given. 

So  they  die  in  New  York  without  any  pangs, 

For  they  know  in  the  next  world,  to  requite  'em, 

They'll  sit  over  Paris,"  said  Mr.  Bangs, 

"A-drinking  cocktails  ad  infinitum" 


206  AN  AMERICAN  COCK-TALE 

Here  we  got  down,  and  the  driver  said, 

"  Veil,  you're,  of  the  kind  that  will  allers  bang  'em  !  " 

And  turning  our  mocassins  homeward,  we  sped 

To  that  great  American  wigwam,  the  Langham. 

Said  Bangs,  "  O'er  my  eyes  there  is  drawn  no  wool. 

That  man  has  no  heart  who  would  tell  you  a  mock  tale ; 

But  story  for  story  I  told  to  the  Bull, 

What  I  call  a  real  American  cocktail." 


JUDGE  WYMAN 

A    RURAL   YANKEE    LEGEND 

LONG  ago,  in  the  State  of  Maine, 

There  lived  a  Judge — a  good  old  soul, 
Rather  well  up  in  "  genial  vein," 

And  not  by  any  means  "  down  on  "  the  bowl. 
N.B.— By  "bowl"  I  mean  the  "cup," 

And  by  "  cup  " — N.B. — I  mean  a  glass, 
Since  neither  bowls  nor  cups  go  up 

At  present  when  we  our  liquor  pass. 
(Although  I  recall— 
'Tis  three  years  this  Fall — 
When  travelling  in  the  wilderness, 
And  things  were  all  in  an  awful  mess, 
And  our  crockery,  with  a  horrible  crash, 


2o8  JUDGE  WYMAN 

Had  gone  its  way  to  eternal  smash 

(It  came,  as  the  driver  allowed,  from  racin'), 

We  drank  champagne  from  a  tin  wash-basin. 

Excuse  the  digression — non  est  crimen — 

And  return  to  our  Judge,  whose  name  was  Wyman. 

The  Judge  oft  drank  in  a  hostelrie 

Kept  by  a  man  whose  name  was  Sterret, 
Where  he  met  with  jolly  company, 

But  where  the  whisky  was  void  of  merit. 
The  real  Minie  rifle  brand, 
That  at  forty  rods  kills  out  of  hand. 


Well,  it  came  to  pass  that  one  night  the  Judge 

At  Sterret's,  after  a  long,  hot  day, 
Got  so  tight  that  he  couldn't  budge, 

And  found  himself  "well  over  the  bay," 
With  a  "  snake  in  his  boot "  and  one  in  his  hat, 

Like  a  biled  owl,  or  a  monkey  horned, 
Tangle-legged,  hawk-eyed,  on  a  bat, 

Peepy,  skewered,  and  slewed,  and  corned. 


JUDGE  WYMAN  209 

Couldn't  tell  a  skunk  from  a  pint  of  Cologne, 

Couldn't  see  the  difference  'tween  ftps  and  cents ; 

And  when  he  attempted  to  walk  alone, 
Simply  made  a  Virginia  fence  ; 

Till  liquor  yielded  at  last  to  sleep, 

And  he  sank  into  Dream  River — four  miles  deep. 

Sanctus  Ivus  fuit  Brito^  advocatus  sed  non  latro. 
"  Saint  Ives  the  Briton  first  took  a  brief, 
For  though  a  lawyer  he  wasn't  a  thief." 
This  is  what  the  story  declares, 
Which  says  he  listens  to  lawyers'  prayers. 
Likely  enough  !  perhaps  he  may — 
Whenever  a  lawyer  tries  to  pray  ! 
But  another  legend,  old  and  quaint, 
Assigns  them  a  different  kind  of  saint, 
With  a  singular  foot  and  peculiar  hue, 
Whose  breath  is  tinged  with  a  beautiful  blue  ; 


And  this  was  rather  the  saint,  I  think, 

Who  inspired  the  young  lawyers,  twenty-four, 
14 


210  JUDGE  WYMAN 

Who  helped  Judge  Wyman  to  stow  his  drink, 
And  made  them  rejoice  to  hear  him  snore. 

Who,  save  the  devil,  would  not  have  wept 
To  see  these  graceless  legal  loons 

Tricking  the  good  old  Judge  as  he  slept, 
And  filling  his  pockets  with  Sterret's  spoons  ? 

With  silver  spoons  ;  likewise  for  butter 
A  handsome  ten-dollar  silver  knife ; 

Then  put  Judge  Wyman  on  a  shutter, 
And  carried  him  home  to  his  loving  wife. 

If  any  ladies  read  these  rhymes, 

Which  in  Edgar  A.  Poetry  are  called  "runes," 
They  may  just  imagine  what  sorf  of  times 

Mrs.  Wyman  had  when  she  found  the  spoons  ! 
The  Judge's  grief  was  full  of  merit, 

And  his  lady  wasn't  inclined  to  flout  it ; 
But  she  quietly  took  the  spoons  to  Sterret, 

And  nothing  more  was  said  about  it. 
A  month  went  by,  and  Fama,  the  wench  ! 

Had  not  spread  a  whisper  to  urge  remorse, 


JUDGE  WYMAN  211 

And  Judge  Wyman  sat  on  the  legal  bench, 

Trying  a  fellow  for  stealing  a  horse. 
The  evidence  was  all  due  north. 

It  froze  the  prisoner  every  minute, 
Till  Judge  Wyman  called  the  culprit  forth, 

And  asked  what  "  he  had  to  say  agin  it  ? " 

The  prisoner  looked  at  the  planks  of  pine 

Of  the  little  rural  court-house  ceiling, 
At  all  the  jury  in  a  line, 

Then  answered,  his  only  small  card  dealing, 
"  Judge,  I  hev  lots  of  honesty, 

But  when  I'm  drunk  I  can't  control  it ; 
And  as  for  this  'ere  hoss — d'ye  see  ? — 

I  was  drunk  as  blazes  when  I  stole  it." 
Answered  the  Judge,  "  If  this  Court  were  a  dunce, 

She  would  say,  in  law  that  is  no  excuse ; 
For  the  Court  held  that  opinion  once> 

But  of  late  her  connection's  been  gettin'  loose. 
One  may  be  certain  on  law  to-day. 

And  find  himself  to-morrow  dumb. — 


212  JUDGE  WYMAN 

But  answer  me  one  thing  truly,  and  say 

Where'bouts  it  was  you  got  your  rum  ?  " 
"  I  drank  because  I  was  invited, 

And  got  my  rum  at  Sterret's,  d'ye  see  ?  " 
"  Mr.  Sheriff,"  cried  the  Judge,  excited, 

"  This  instant  set  that  poor  man  free ! 
The  liquor  that  Sterret  sells,  by  thunder  ! 

Would  make  a  man  do  anything, 
And  some  time  or  other,  I  shouldn't  wonder 

If  it  made  a  saint  on  the  gallows  swing ; 
It  will  run  a  man  to  perdition  quicker 

Than  it  takes  a  fiddler  to  reel  off  tunes  ; 
Why,  this  Court  herself  once  got  drunk  on  that  liquor, 

And  stole  the  whole  of  old  Sterrefs  spoons  !  " 


IN   NEVADA 

LIKE  an  awful  alligator 
Breathing  fire  and  screeching  hell-some, 
With  a  pack  of  hounds  behind  him, 
As  if  hunted  by  the  devil, 
Came  the  smoking  locomotive, 
Followed  by  the  cars  and  tender, 
Down  among  the  mountain  gorges, 
Till  it  stopped  before  a  village 
As  the  starry  night  came  on. 

Just  before  a  mountain  village, 
Where  there  was  a  howling  shindy 
Just  around  a  bran-new  gallows, 
With  a  roaring  blazing  bonfire 
Casting  a  red  light  upon  it, 


214  IN  NEVADA 


While  a  crowd  of  roughest  rowdies 
Shouted,  "  Cuss  him  !  darn  his  vitals  ! 
Bust  him  !  sink  him  !  burn  him  !  skin  him  ! 
Evidently  much  excited 
As  the  starry  night  came  on. 


On  the  gallows  stood  a  culprit 
Shrieking  painfully  for  mercy. 
As  the  train  and  engine  halted, 
Louder  yelled  the  gasping  victim. 
Then  out  cried  the  grim  conductor, 
"  What  in  thunder  is  the  matter  ? 
What's  ye  doin'  with  that  feller  ? 
Why've  ye  got  both  fire  and  gallows  ?  " 
And  unto  him  some  one  answered, 
As  the  starry  night  came  on  : — 


"  This  all-fired,  skunk-eyed  villain, 
Whom  you  see  upon  the  gallows, 


IN  NEVADA  215 


Lately  stole  the  loveliest  mewel 1 
That  you  ever  sot  your  peeps  on, 
For  a  hundred  shiny  dollars, 
Went  and  sold  it  to  the  Greasers ; 
But,  as  you  perceive,  we've  nailed  him, 
And  at  present  we're  debatin' 
Whether  we  had  better  hang  him, 
Or  else  roast  him  like  an  Injun, 
Ere  the  starry  night  comes  on. 


"  And  I  think  ez  ther  ar'  ladies 
Here  to  grace  this  gay  occasion, 
In  the  train,  and  quite  convenient, 
We  had  better  take  and  burn  him. 
'Twould  be  kinder  interestin', 
Or,  as  folks  might  say,  romantic, 
To  behold  an  execution, 
As  we  do  'em  here  in  Hell  Town, 

1  Mule. 


216  IN  NEVADA 

In  the  real  frontier  fashion, 
Ere  the  starry  night  comes  on.' 


Up  from  all  the  assembled  ladies, 

And  from  all  the  passageros, 

Went  a  scream  of  protestation, — 

"What !  for  nothing  but  a  mewel  ! 

Only  for  a  hundred  dollars 

Roast  alive  a  fine  young  fellow ! 

Never,  never,  never,  ne — ver  !  " 

Falling  on  her  knees,  a  damsel 

Begged  the  maddened  crowd  to  spare  him, 

And  to  her  replied  the  spokesman, 

As  the  starry  night  came  on  : — 


"  Since  the  lady  begs  it  of  us, 
And  as  we  ar'  galiant  fellers, 
We  will  smash  the  tail  of  Jestis, 
And  will  spare  this  orful  miscrint, 


IN  NEVADA  217 

Ef  you'll  raise  a  hundred  dollars 

To  replace  the  vanished  mewel. 

Then  this  fiend,  unwhipped,  undamaged, 

May  go  wanderin'  to  thunder, 

Soon  as  he  darnation  pleases, 

Ere  the  starry  night  comes  on." 


Straight  among  the  pitying  ladies, 
And  the  other  passageros, 
Went  the  hat  around  in  circle. 
Dollars,  quarters,  halves,  and  greenbacks 
Rained  into  it  till  the  hundred 
Was  accomplished,  and  the  ransom 
Paid  unto  Judge  Lynch  in  person, 
Who  received  it  very  gracious, 
And  at  once  released  the  prisoner, 
Sternly  bidding  him  to  squaddie, 
Just  as  fast  as  he  could  make  it, 
Ere  the  starry  night  came  on. 


2i8  IN  NEVADA 

And  the  lady  who  by  kneeling 
Had  destroyed  the  path  of  justice, 
Seized  upon  the  fine  young  fellow, 
He  who  had  the  mulomania, 
Or  who  was  a  kleptomuliac ; 
And  she  led  him  by  the  halter, 
While  the  reckless  population 
Made  atrocious  puns  upon  it ; 
And  she  stowed  him  in  the  Pullman 
As  the  safest  sanctuary, 
As  the  starry  night  came  on. 


It  was  over.     Loud  the  whistle 
Blew  a  signal  of  departure ; 
Still  the  dying  bonfire  flickering 
Showed  on  high  the  ghastly  gallows, 
Seeming  like  some  hungry  monster 
Disappointed  of  a  victim, 
Gasping  as  in  fitful  anger, 
Pouring  out  unto  the  gallows 


IN  NEVADA 

Or  the  sympathetic  scaffold 

All  the  story  of  its  sorrow, 

As  the  clouds  passed  o'er  the  moon-face, 

And  the  starry  night  came  on. 


219 


Soon  the  train  and  those  within  it 

Reached  and  passed  a  second  station, 

And  was  speeding  ever  onward, 

When  at  once  a  shriek  came  ringing — 

'Twas  an  utterance  from  the  lady 

Who  by  tears  had  baffled  justice ; 

Loud  she  cried,  "  Where  is  my  hero  ? 

Where,  oh,  where's  the  handsome  prisoner  ?  " 

And  the  affable  conductor 

Searched  the  train  from  clue  to  ear-ring, 

But  they  could  not  find  the  captive. 

He  had  clearly  just  evaded 

At  the  station  just  behind  them, 

As  the  starry  night  came  on. 


220  IN  NEVADA 

Then  outspoke  a  man  unnoted 
Hitherto  :  "  I  heard  the  fellow 
Say  just  now  to  the  conductor, 
Ere  we  reached  the  second  teapot, 
That  he  reckoned  he  must  hook  it 
This  here  time  a  little  sooner, 
If  he  hoped  to  get  his  portion 
Of  the  hundred,  since  the  last  time 
He  came  awful  nigh  to  lose  it ; 
For  it  might  be  anted  off  all 
'Fore  he  got  a  chance  to  strike  it, 
Ere  the  starry  night  came  on." 


And  the  Unknown  thus  continued  : 
"  They  hev  hed  that  gallows  standin' 
All  the  summer,  and  the  people 
Mostly  git  ther  livin'  from  it, 
For  they  take  ther  turns  in  bein' 
Mournful  victims  who  hev  stolen 


IN  NEVADA  221 


Every  one  a  lovely  mewel ; 
And  they  always  every  evenin' 
Hev  the  awful  death-fire  kindled, 
And  the  ghastly  captive  ready. 
It's  the  fourth  time  I  hev  seen  it, 
Comin'  through  and  never  missed  it ; 
Only  for  a  variation 
Now  and  then  they  hire  a  nigger 
For  the  people  from  New  England, 
As  the  starry  night  comes  on. 


"  And  they  find  that  fire  and  gallows 
Just  as  good  as  a  bonanza, 
For  they  got  the  Legislater 
Lately  to  incopperate  it ; 
And  I  hear  the  stock  is  risin' 
Up  like  prairie  smoke  in  autumn. 
Yes,  in  this  world  men  diskiver 
Cur'ous  ways  to  make  a  livin', 
Ez  you'll  find  when  you  hev  tried  it 


222  IN  NEVADA 

For  a  year  or  so  about  here." 
And  the  passengers  in  silence 
Mused  upon  this  new  experience, 
Most  of  all  the  fine  young  lady, 
As  the  dragon  darted  onward, 
And  the  starry  night  came  on. 


THE  PHILANTHROPIC   CLUB 

I  AM  the  member  of  a  club  of  reg'lar  noble  seeds, 
Whose  object  is  to  give  rewards  for  philanthropic  deeds. 
We  root  for  magnanimity  as  spiders  hunt  for  flies, 
So  we  lately  held  a  meeting  to  award  our  annual  prize. 

Then  our  President  reported  with  great  solemnity 

The  case  of  Dayball  Carter,  a  man  in  Tennessee, 

Who  plunged  into  a  burning  store  as  if  his  doom  had  come, 

But  emerged  with  an  infant — and  a  gallon  jug  of  rum. 

But  the  club  could  nowise  settle,  admitting  all  the  fact, 

If  the  baby  or  the  liquor  had  inspired  the  noble  act, 

For  'twas  proved  he  kept  the  liquor  while  he  let  the  infant  go, 

So  the  case  of  Mr.  Carter  was  adjourned  in  duMo. 


224  THE  PHILANTHROPIC  CLUB 

Then  the  Secretary  read  us,  in  very  moving  tones, 

The  wondrous  case  of  courage  of  General  Pompey  Jones, 

Who  found  a  hydrophobic  dog  upon  a  neighbour's  farm, 

And  roped  his  neck  and  led  him  off  where  he  could  do  no  harm. 


Then  Brother  Chunk,  of  Pewterville,  declared  that  it  was  sad 
To  have  to  state  that  Jones  had  no  idea  the  dog  was  mad, 
And  that  in  circles  where  he  moved  'twas  very  freely  said 
He'd  picked  it  up  intending  to  come  out  one  dog  ahead. 


Then  the  next  case  reported  in  the  doings  of  the  day 
Was  that  of  Huckleberry  Pod,  a  man  in  Iowa, 
Who  slopped  into  a  raging  flood  to  save  a  drowning  maid, 
And  did  it  like  a  beaver,  as  admiring  neighbours  said. 


Then  Brother  Chunk  again  let  down  his  fist  with  startling  bump, 
And  said  he'd  found  that  Mr.  Pod  refused  to  make  the  jump 
Till  offered  fifty  dollars  by  the  people  of  the  town, 
And  that  then  he  wouldn't  do  it  till  he  got  the  money  down. 


THE  PHILANTHROPIC  CLUB  225 

Last  of  all  we  heard  the  instance  of  Golias  Purple  Fife, 
Who  went  into  an  awful  well  to  save  a  fellow's  life, 
A  man  who  always  spoke  of  Fife  as  of  a  blooming  fool, 
And  who  recently  had  done  him  blind  in  trading  for  a  mule ; 


And  on  top  of  this,  moreover,  in  addition,  'twas  a  fact, 

He  refused  a  quarter-dollar  for  this  noble  manly  act, 

And  when  they  asked  him  what  he'd  drink,  or  if  he'd  take  a  bite, 

He  jumped  in  silence  on  his  mule  and  rode  into  the  night. 


This  case,  in  the  opinion  of  the  members  of  the  club, 
Was  much  the  most  deserving,  and  the  nearest  to  the  hub ; 
And  each  allowed  he'd  never  heard  the  like  in  all  his  life, 
So,  by  general  acclamation,  they  bestowed  the  prize  on  Fife : — 

A  silver-plated  snuff-box,  with  a  compass  in  the  lid, 
With  the  words,  "  If 'sold  at  auction  always  do  as  you  are  bid" 
Which  we  sent  him  in  a  hurry  ere  it  might  be  understood 
That  this,  too,  was  not  an  instance  of  the  pure  unmingled  good. 


226  THE  PHILANTHROPIC  CLUB 

And  these  are  the  proceedings  of  these  noble-minded  seeds, 
Who  make  it  their  profession  to  discover  virtuous  deeds ; 
And  every  day  turns  out  a  lot,  but  still  'tis  on  our  mind 
That  a  case  without  a  speck  in  it  is  very  hard  to  find. 


THE  COLOURED  FORTUNE-HUNTER 

PETE  JONSING  went  to  see  the  County  Clerk 
About  a  marriage  license,  and  the  man 
Said  unto  him  for  fun,  but  seriously : 
"  I  hope  the  bride  possesses  fifty  cents, 
Because  the  Legislature's  passed  a  law 
That  any  girl  with  less  must  not  be  wed." 
"  Jis'  go  ahead  wid  dat  'ar  paper,  Boss," 
Peter  replied ;  then  whispered,  bending  down 
"  Bar's  rumers — and  dey  is  reliable — 
Dat  de  young  woman  dat  I'm  goin'  fur 
Has  got  two  dollars  and  a  quarter — shoa. 
And  dat's  de  reason  wy  I  marries  her." 


PENN 

ON  A  TEXT  BY  ROBERT  BURDETTE 

WHEN  William  Penn  appeared  before  King  Charles 
To  get  the  charter  of  his  Promised  Land 

In  Pennsylvania, 

Twas  in  his  usual  free-and-easy  style, 
With  hands  in  pockets  and  his  hat  on  side — 

Singing  Lard-dardy  day  ! 

Let  its  drink  and  be  merry,  laugh,  sing,  and  rejoice, 
With  claret  and  sherry,  theorbo  and  voice, 

Merry-ton-ton-ton  ta-lay  ! 

King  Charles  at  once  removed  his  feathered  tile. 
"  Keep  on  your  hat,  young  man  !  "  said  William  Penn, 
"  It  is  our  Quaker  way  ; 


PENN  229 

And  people  will  not  know  that  you  are  bald ; 
Be  quite  at  home  to  make  your  guests  at  home — 

Singing  Lard-dardy  day  ! 
This  changeable  world  to  our  joys  is  unjust, 
All  treasures  uncertain,  so  down  with  your  dust, 

Merry-ton-ton-ton  ta-lay  f  " 


"  It  is  the  custom  here,"  the  King  replied, 
"  For  only  one  to  cover  at  a  time ; 

This  is  the  courtly  way." 

"  Then  you  should  have  more  covers,"  warbled  Penn. 
"  Warm  people's  heads  to  make  them  merry  men — 

Singing  Lard-dardy  day  ! 

And  in  frolics  dispose  of  your  shillings  and  pence, 
Since  we  all  shall  be  past  it  a  hundred  years  hence, 

Merry-ton-ton-ton  ta-lay  ! 

"  'Tis  a  queer  world,  and  faith  !  I  do  not  lay 
My  hat  around,  loose,  in  a  domicile 

Where  I  don't  know  the  way, 


230  PENN 

Unless  some  party  gives  a  check  for  it ; 

I've  travelled  some — I  have — and  can't  be  bit — 

Singing  Lard-dardy  day  f 

Since,  despite  your  invention,  and  learning,  and  sense, 
You'll  be  non  est  inventus  a  hundred  years  hence, 

Merry -ton-ton-ton  ta-lay  !  " 


"  Odds-fish  ! "  exclaimed  his  Royal  Majesty, 
"  He  talks  full  well,  but  as  it  seems  to  me, 

According  to  our  way, 

There's  a  tremendous  pig  in  this  same  Penn." 
"  Bravo,  young  man  !  "  said  William ;    "try  again- 
Singing  Lard-dardy  day  / 

You  have  brought  me  a  terrible  one  on  the  nob, 
But  I  bear  you  no  malice,  not  being  a  snob, 
Merry-ton-ton-ton  ta-lay  /  " 

And  thus  it  is  that  history  is  writ, 
And  thus  it  is  good  men  are  slandered  sore 
From  ever  till  to-day. 


PENN  231 

Some  writer  pastes  a  joke ;  it  may  remain 
Safe  in  a  corner  from  Time's  wind  and  rain 

Till  Time  has  rolled  away. 

So,  hurrah  for  King  Charles  !  and  hurrah^  too,  for  Penn  / 
And  all  such  and  similar  excellent  men  / 

Merry-ton-ton-ton  ta-lay  ! 


BALLAD   OF   THE   FOXES 

THERE  is  a  golden  glory  in  my  song 

As  of  a  picture  by  Carpaccio, 

For  it  is  of  the  early  morning-time 

When  every  man  believed  with  tender  faith 

That  animals  could  talk — oh,  lovely  lore ! 

So,  lady,  listen  as  the  lay  runs  on. 


There  was  a  goose,  and  she  was  travelling 
Across  the  land  for  her  dyspepsia, 
And  at  the  noontide  sat  to  rest  herself 
In  a  small  thicket,  when  there  came  along 
Two  starving  foxes,  perishing  to  find 
Something  which  was  not  too-too-utter-ish 


BALLAD  OF  THE  FOXES  233 

To  serve  for  dinner.     And  as  they  were  wild 
For  want  of  food,  it  was  but  natural 
That  they  should  likewise  be  confounded  cross ; 
Oh,  lady,  listen  as  the  lay  runs  on  ! 


And  as  they  halted  near  the  thicket,  one 

Of  them  observed,  "  If  you  were  half  as  sharp 

As  books  make  out,  you  would  not  now,  I'll  bet, 

Be  ravenous  enough  to  gnaw  the  grass." 

"  And  if  you  were  as  big,  or  half  as  big, 

As  you  believe  you  are,"  snarled  Number  Two, 

"  You'd  be  a  lion  of  the  largest  size 

Minus  his  roar,  and  pluck,  and  dignity." 

Oh,  listen,  lady,  as  the  lay  runs  on  ! 


"  Please  to  observe  I  want  no  impudence 
From  any  fifteen-nickel  quadruped 
Of  your  peculiar  shape,"  snapped  Number  One. 
"  And  if  you  give  me  but  another  note 


234  BALLAD  OF  THE  FOXES 

Of  your  chin-music,"  snarled  out  Number  Two, 
"  I'll  make  a  wreck  of  you,  you  wretched  beast, 
Beyond  insurance — bet  your  tail  on  that !  " 
Oh,  lady,  listen  as  the  lay  runs  on  ! 


"  You  are  the  champion  snob  of  all  the  beasts  ! " 

"And  you  the  upper  scum  of  all  the  frauds." 

"You  are  the  weathercock  of  infamy." 

"  And  you  the  lightning-rod  of  falsehood's  spire." 

"  You  are  a  thief ! "     "  Ditto."     "  You  lie."     "  I  ain't." 

"  Shut  up,  you  goy  ! "     And  hearing  this,  the  goose 

Could  bear  no  more,  but  walking  from  the  bush, 

Put  on  expression  most  benevolent, 

And  said,  "  Oh,  gentlemen,  for  shame  !  for  shame  ! 

I'll  settle  this  dispute  :  in  the  first  place 

Let  me  remark,  as  an  impartial  friend " 

Oh,  listen,  lady,  as  the  lay  runs  on  ! 

» 

But  she  did  not  remark,  because  they  made 
A  rush  at  her  and  caught  her  by  the  throat, 


BALLAD  OF  THE  FOXES  235 

And  ate  her  up  \  and  as  they  picked  their  teeth 
With  toothpicks  made  of  her  last  pin-feathers, 
The  first  observed,  and  that  quite  affably, 
"  Only  a  goose  would  ever  make  attempt 
To  settle  a  dispute  when  foxes  fight " — 
Oh,  lady,  listen  as  the  lay  runs  on  ! 


"  And  while  I  have  a  very  great  respect 

For  any  peacemaker,"  said  Number  Two, 

"  I  would  suggest  that  I  invariably 

Have  found,  if  they  be  really  honest  folk 

Who  interfere  with  reprobates  like  us, 

They're  always  eaten  up ;  there  is,  I  think, 

More  clanship  between  devils  any  day 

Than  among  all  the  angels.     Interest 

Binds  us  together,  and  howe'er  we  fight 

Among  ourselves  to  ease  our  bitter  blood, 

We  do  not  hate  each  other  half  as  much 

As  we  do  hate  the  good.     Neighbours  who  fight 

Can  generally  take  most  perfect  care, 


236  BALLAD  OF  THE  FOXES 

Not  only  of  themselves,  but  of  the  goose 
Who  sticks  her  bill  into  the  fuss  they  make. 
This  banquet  now  adjourns  until  it  meets 
Another  winged  angel  of  the  sort 
Which  it  has  just  discussed — may  it  be  soon  !  " 
Lady,  this  lyric  runs  no  further  on. 


EST   MODUS   IN   REBUS 

A    NARRATIVE   OF   NEW   YORK 

I  WOULD  not  say  to  man,  "  Don't  spread  yourself 

To  win  the  admiration  of  mankind," 

Since  he  who  never  spreads  can  never  shine, 

And  he  who  never  shines  is  never  seen, 

And  he  who's  never  seen  is  counted  out 

In  the  great  game  of  life ;  yet  what  is  spread 

Too  thin  entirely,  when  the  sun  shines  out 

Must  soon  dry  up  and  be  a  fly-away. 


There  was  a  man  who  took  his  daily  dine 
At  a  delightful  table  d^hote^  where  he 
Was  waited  on  by  an  obedient  youth, 


238  EST  MOD  US  IN  REB  US 

Who,  as  a  waiter,  was  a  paragon 

Of  quick  politeness.     He'd  apologise 

If  the  sun  shone  too  much,  or  if  it  rained, 

And  say  in  simple  faith  that  he  would  speak 

To  the  proprietor  and  have  it  changed, 

Then  vanish  like  an  elfin  fly-away. 


The  vulgar  boarder  at  this  table  d'hote 

Was  one  who  greatly  loved  to  spread  himself 

And  play  the  imperial  before  the  rest ; 

And  finding  that  the  waiter  cushioned  it, 

Sat  down  on  him  severely.     Every  time 

He  spoke  he  called  him  names,  and  said  that  he 

Forthwith  would  punish  him  in  cruel  wise 

Unless  he  tortled  faster,  or  unless 

The  steak  was  better  cooked.     And  then  he'd  swear- 

Oh,  death  and  dandelions  !  how  he  would  swear  ! 

Till  all  the  blood  of  all  the  boarders  round 

Was  almost  turned  to  cherry-water  ice, 

And  each  and  all  wished  they  could  fly  away. 


EST  MODUS  IN  REBUS  239 

And  yet  this  waiter  had  a  fund  reserved 

Of  pretty  stout  pugnacity  and  pride, 

And  every  time  the  boarder  called  him  "  fool," 

Or  "low-born  rooster,"  he  would  add  it  up 

To  the  preceding  pile  of  expletives, 

And  think  it  over.     He  did  not  forget 

A  single  word.     Of  all  the  abusatives 

There  was  not  one  which  proved  a  fly-away. 


At  last  the  crisis  came,  when  one  fine  day, 

For  some  imagined  fault,  the  boarder  said 

Unto  the  waiter,  that  unless  he  stirred 

A  little  quicker  he  would  bung  his  eye, 

And  take  him  by  the  legs  instanter-\y 

And  wipe  the  floor  with  him.     But  with  that  word 

He  overdrew  the  account.     That  was  the  fly 

Which  overset  the  camel,  and  the  drop 

Which  made  the  pail  slop  over.     For  the  youth 

On  that  let  out  his  Injun.     All  at  once 

He  turned  both  red  and  white,  as  fat  and  lean 


240  EST  MODUS  IN  REBUS 

Are  seen  in  a  beefsteak  before  'tis  cooked, 
And  blew  his  soul  out  in  a  fly-away. 


"You  misspelled  copy  of  a  gentleman 

With  all  the  meaning  lost ! — if  you  dare  call 

Me  names  again  as  you  have  often  done, 

I'll  bung  your  pallid  eyes.     You've  said  too  much, 

So  now  just  dwindle  down.     I've  always  been 

Obedient  and  polite,  and  served  you  well, 

As  you  were  never  served  by  any  one, 

And  all  you  ever  gave  me  was  abuse, 

And  all  because  you  were  a  vulgar  fool. 

Now  stop  your  noise,  or  I  will  sling  you  out 

Of  yonder  window  for  a  fly-away  !  " 


The  boarder  rose  as  if  in  roaring  wrath, 
The  waiter  jerked  his  linen  jacket  off 
And  fairly  danced  about  in  gypsy  style, 
Impatient  for  a  fight.     But  then  the  guest 


EST  MODUS  IN  REBUS  241 

As  if  with  self-command  restrained  himself, 
And  said  to  the  assembled  company, 
"  There  must  be  lines  in  all  society 
To  regulate  our  conduct.     Lines,  I  say, 
Which  separate  us  from  the  vulgar  herd, 
With  whom  we  may  not  fight.     I  draw  the  line 
At  waiters."     Here  he  looked  about  the  room 
To  be  applauded ;  but  the  only  sound 
Which  rose  was  that  of  a  tremendous  slap 
On  his  own  face,  and  then  a  mighty  roar 
Of  laughter  from  the  happy  company, 
For  all  his  valour  was  a  fly-away. 


So  he  sat  down  too  terrified  to  speak ; 
And  then  the  waiter  took  a  dripping  jug 
Of  ice-water  and  poured  out  every  drop 
Upon  his  head,  yea,  water,  ice,  and  all ; 
And  then  that  boarder  burst  in  bitter  tears, 
And  blubbered  like  a  boy,  while  all  the  room 

Rang  with  redoubled  laughter.     Then  a  guest 
16 


242  EST  MODUS  IN  REBUS 

Proposed  a  vote  of  thanks  to  him  who  had 
Put  down  a  public  nuisance,  and  the  next 
Passed  round  a  hat  and  took  collection  up 
To  give  the  waiter  as  a  small  reward 
For  punishing  a  coward.     Then  he  rose, 
And  since  that  hour  has  been  a  fly-away. 


THE   MASHER 

The  word  to  "mash,"  in  the  sense  of  causing  love  or  attracting  by  a  glance  or 
fascinating  look,  came  into  ordinary  slang  from  the  American  stage.  Thus  an  actress 
was  often  fined  for  "mashing  "  or  smiling  at  men  in  the  audience.  It  was  introduced  by 
the  well-known  gypsy  family  of  actors,  C.,  among  whom  Romany  was  habitually  spoken. 
The  word  "masher"  or  "mash"  means  in  that  tongue  to  allure,  delude,  or  entice. 
It  was  doubtless  much  aided  in  its  popularity  by  its  quasi-identity  with  the  English 
word.  A  girl  could  be  called  a  masher  as  she  could  be  called  a  man-killer,  or  killing. 
But  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  gypsy  origin  of  "mash "  as  used  on  the  stage.  I 
am  indebted  for  this  information  to  the  late  well-known  impresario  Palmer  of  New 
York,  and  I  made  a  note  of  it  years  before  the  term  had  become  at  all  popular. 

IT  was  in  the  Indian  summer-time,  when  life  is  tender  brown, 

And  people  in  the  country  talk  of  going  into  town, 

When  the  nights  are  crisp  and  cooling,  though  the  sun  is  warm  by  day, 

In  the  home-like  town  of  Glasgow,  in  the  State  of  Iowa ; 


It  was  in  the  railroad  deepo  of  that  greatly-favoured  zone, 
That  a  young  man  met  a  stranger,  who  was  still  not  all  unknown, 
For  they  had  run-countered  casual  in  riding  in  the  car, 
And  the  latter  to  the  previous  had  offered  a  cigar. 


244  THE  MASHER 

Now  as  the  primal  gentleman  was  nominated  Gale, 

It  follows  that  the  secondary  man  was  Mr.  Dale ; 

This  is  called  poetic  justice  when  arrangements  fit  in  time, 

And  Fate  allows  the  titles  to  accommodate  in  rhyme. 


And  a  lovely  sense  of  autumn  seemed  to  warble  in  the  air ; 
Boys  with  baskets  selling  peaches  were  vibratin'  everywhere, 
While  in  the  mellow  distance  folks  were  gettin'  in  their  corn, 
And  the  biggest  yellow  punkins  ever  seen  since  you  were  born. 


Now  a  gradual  sensation  emotioned  this  our  Gale, 

That  he'd  seldom  seen  so  fine  a  man  for  cheek  as  Mr.  Dale ; 

Yet  simultaneous  he  felt  that  he  was  all  the  while 

The  biggest  dude  and  cock-a-hoop  within  a  hundred  mile. 


For  the  usual  expression  of  his  quite  enormous  eyes 

Was  that  of  two  ripe  gooseberries  who've  been  decreed  a  prize ; 

Like  a  goose  apart  from  berries,  too — though  not  removed  from  sauce — 

He  conversed  on  lovely  Woman  as  if  he  were  all  her  boss. 


THE  MASHER  245 

Till,  in  fact,  he  stated  plainly  that,  between  his  face  and  cash, 
There  was  not  a  lady  living  whom  he  was  not  sure  to  mash ; 
The  wealthiest,  the  loveliest,  of  families  sublime, 
At  just  a  single  look  from  him  must  all  give  in  in  time. 


Now  when  our  Dale  had  got  along  so  far  upon  the  strain, 
They  saw  a  Dream  of  Loveliness  descending  from  the  train, 
A  proud  and  queenly  beauty  of  a  transcendental  face, 
With  gloves  unto  her  shoulders,  and  the  most  expensive  lace. 


All  Baltimore  and  New  Orleans  seemed  centered  into  one, 
As  if  their  stars  of  beauty  had  been  fused  into  a  sun ; 
But,  oh  !  her  frosty  dignity  expressed  a  kind  of  glow 
Like  sunshine  when  thermometers  show  thirty  grades  below. 


But  it  flashed  a  gleam  of  shrewdness  into  the  head  of  Gale, 
And  with  aggravatin'  humour  he  exclaimed  to  Mr.  Dale, 
"Since  every  girl's  a  cricket-ball  and  you're  the  only  bat, 
If  you  want  to  show  you're  champion,  go  in  and  mash  on  that. 


246  THE  MASHER 

"  I  will  bet  a  thousand  dollars,  and  plank  them  on  the  rub, 
That  if  you  try  it  thither,  you  will  catch  a  lofty  snub. 
I  don't  mean  but  what  a  lady  may  reply  to  what  you  say, 
But  I  bet  you  cannot  win  her  into  wedding  in  a  day." 


A  singular  emotion  enveloped  Mr.  Dale ; 

One  would  say  he  seemed  confuseled,  for  his  countenance  was  pale 
At  first  there  came  an  angry  look,  and  when  that  look  did  get, 
He  larft  a  wild  and  hollow  larf,  and  said,  "  I  take  the  debt. 


"  The  brave  deserve  the  lovely — every  woman  may  be  won ; 
What  men  have  fixed  before  us  may  by  other  men  be  done. 
You  will  lose  your  thousand  dollars.     For  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  have  gazed  upon  a  woman  whom  I  wish  to  make  my  wife." 


Like  a  terrier  at  a  rabbit,  with  his  hat  upon  his  eyes 
Mr.  Dale,  the  awful  masher,  went  head-longing  at  the  prize, 
Looking  rather  like  a  party  simply  bent  to  break  the  peace. 
Mr.  Gale,  with  smiles,  expected  just  a  yell  for  the  police. 


THE  MASHER  247 

Oh  !  what  are  women  made  of  ?     Oh  !  what  can  women  be  ? 
From  Eves  to  Jersey  Lilies  what  bewildering  sights  we  see  ! 
One  listened  on  the  instant  to  all  the  Serpent  said ; 
The  other  paid  attention  right  away  to  Floral  Ned. 


With  a  blow  as  with  a  hammer  the  intruder  broke  the  ice, 
And  the  proud  and  queenly  beauty  seemed  to  think  it  awful  nice. 
Mr.  Gale,  as  he  beheld  it,  with  a  trembling  heart  began 
To  realise  he  really  was  a  most  astonished  man. 


Shall  I  tell  you  how  he  wooed  her  ?  shall  I  tell  you  how  he  won  ? 
How  they  had  a  hasty  wedding  ere  the  evening  was  done  ? 
For  when  all  things  were  considered,  the  fond  couple  thought  it  best — 
Such  things  are  not  uncommon  in  the  wild  and  rapid  West. 


Dale  obtained  the  thousand  dollars,  and  then  vanished  with  the  dream. 
Gale  stayed  in  town  with  sorrow,  like  a  spoon  behind  the  cream ; 
Till  one  morning  in  the  paper  he  read,  though  not  in  rhymes, 
How  a  certain  blooming  couple  had  been  married  fifty  times  ! 


248  THE  MASHER 

How  they  wandered  o'er  the  country ;  how  the  bridegroom  used  to  bet 
He  would  wed  the  girl  that  evening, — how  he  always  pulled  the  debt ; 
How  his  eyes  were  large  and  greensome ;  how,  in  fact,  to  end  the  tale, 
Their  very  latest  victim  was  a  fine  young  man  named  Gale. 


ARIZONA  JOHN 

WHEN  in  a  situation  it  always  pays  the  best 

To  have  your  wits  about  you,  for  it  helps  the  interest ; 

And  a  man  gets  so  encouraged  by  succeedin'  when  he  tries, 

That  the  more  you  crowd  him  downward,  the  more  he's  bound  to  rise. 

As  when  near  Tres  Alamos,  while  workin'  at  his  mine, 
John  Lyons,  late  of  Tombstone,  without  the  least  design 
To  involve  himself  whatever  in  any  kind  of  tricks, 
Got  inside  an  unprovided  and  a  most  unpleasant  fix. 

John  Lyons,  late  of  Tombstone,  had  but  just  put  in  a  blast, 
When  he  saw  four  buck  Apaches  approximatin'  fast 
Upon  their  headlong  horses  in  a  rackaloose  career, 
And  every  one  preceded  by  a  long  projectin'  spear : 


250  ARIZONA  JOHN 

He  had  planted  all  the  powder,  and  was  just  atop  the  shaft, 
While  the  foemen  kept  a-comin'  like  as  they  was  telegrapht. 
To  run  was  to  be  taken,  and  to  stay  was  to  be  slew — 
And  in  such  a  situation  how-whatever  could  he  do  ? 


Bein'  quick  upon  the  trigger  Lyons  did  not  stop  to  choose, 
For  a  match  was  in  his  fingers,  so  he  lighted  up  the  fuse, 
And  dropped  behind  a  boulder  for  to  disabuse  their  aim, 
When  at  him  like  a  sheriff's  writ  full  dig  the  Injuns  came. 


He  had  timed  the  fuse  so  nicely  that  the  Taches  reached  the  rock 
Exactly  at  the  nick  of  the  explosionary  shock : 
Bang  !     How  the  big  rock  busted  as  the  powder  gave  a  flare  ! 
While  a  rain  of  stones  and  gravel  went  a-thunderin'  through  the  air. 


It  was  four  red  Apaches  who  also  had  a  rise, 
And  started  for  the  hunting-grounds  on  horseback  thro'  the  skies ; 
Or  as  if  they  had  the  notion,  but  recalled  it  there  and  then, 
For  they  speedily  descended  as  four  non-existent  men. 


ARIZONA  JOHN  251 

John  Lyons,  late  of  Tombstone,  just  down  behind  his  rock, 

Escaped  the  influential  effect  of  such  a  shock, 

And  examinin'  the  prospect,  he  very  plainly  sees 

He  has  worked  the  blast  quite  perfect — likewise  slammed  his  enemies. 


When  narratin'  the  adventure  which  I've  chanted  in  my  song, 
If  he  terms  them  "  blasted  Injuns  "  no  one  calls  his  language  strong — 
For  their  hopes  were  surely  blasted  which  they  fondly  reckoned  on, 
And  with  patent  giant-powder  by  this  Arizona  John. 


THE    BALLAD    OF    CHARITY 

IT  was  in  a  pleasant  deepo,  sequestered  from  the  rain, 
That  many  weary  passengers  were  waitin'  for  the  train ; 
Piles  of  quite  expensive  baggage,  many  a  gorgeous  portmant6, 
Ivory-handled  umberellas  made  a  most  touristic  show. 

Whereunto  there  came  a  person,  very  humble  was  his  mien, 
Who  took  an  observation  of  the  interestin'  scene ; 
Closely  scanned  the  umberellas,  watched  with  joy  the  mighty  trunks, 
And  observed  that  all  the  people  were  securin'  Pullman  bunks : 

Who  was  followed  shortly  after  by  a  most  unhappy  tramp, 
Upon  whose  features  poverty  had  jounced  her  iron  stamp ; 
And  to  make  a  clear  impression  as  bees  sting  you  while  they  buzz, 
She  had  hit  him  rather  harder  than  she  generally  does. 


THE  BALLAD  OF  CHARITY  253 

For  he  was  so  awful  ragged,  and  in  parts  so  awful  bare, 
That  the  folks  were  quite  repulsioned  to  behold  him  begging  there  \ 
And  instead  of  drawing  currency  from  out  their  pocket-books, 
They  drew  themselves  asunder  with  aversionary  looks. 


Sternly  gazed  the  first  newcomer  on  the  unindulgent  crowd, 
Then  in  tones  which  pierced  the  deepo  he  solilicussed  aloud : — 
"  I  hev  trevelled  o'er  this  cont'nent  from  Quebec  to  Bogotaw, 
But  setch  a  set  of  scallawags  as  these  I  never  saw. 


"  Ye  are  wealthy,  ye  are  gifted,  ye  have  house  and  lands  and  rent, 
Yet  unto  a  suffrin'  mortal  ye  will  not  donate  a  cent  \ 
Ye  expend  your  missionaries  to  the  heathen  and  the  Jew, 
But  there  isn't  any  heathen  that  is  half  as  small  as  you. 

"  Ye  are  lucky — ye  hev  cheque-books  and  deeposits  in  the  bank, 
And  ye  squanderate  your  money  on  the  titled  folks  of  rank ; 
The  onyx  and  the  sardonyx  upon  your  garments  shine, 
An'  ye  drink  at  every  dinner  p'r'aps  a  dollar's  wuth  of  wine. 


254  THE  BALLAD  OF  CHARITY 

"  Ye  are  goin'  for  the  summer  to  the  islands  by  the  sea, 
Where  it  costs  four  dollars  daily — setch  is  not  for  setch  as  me 
Iv'ry-handled  umberellers  do  not  come  into  my  plan, 
But  I  kin  give  a  dollar  to  this  suff'rin'  fellow-man. 


"  Hand-bags  made  of  Rooshy  leather  are  not  truly  at  my  call, 
Yet  in  the  eyes  of  Mussy  I  am  richer  'en  you  all, 
For  I  kin  give  a  dollar  wher'  you  dare  not  stand  a  dime, 
And  never  miss  it  nother,  nor  regret  it  ary  time." 

Sayin'  this  he  drew  a  wallet  from  the  inner  of  his  vest, 
And  gave  the  tramp  a  daddy,  which  it  was  his  level  best ; 
Other  people  havin'  heard  him  soon  to  charity  inclined — 
One  giver  soon  makes  twenty  if  you  only  get  their  wind. 


The  first  who  gave  the  dollar  led  the  other  one  about, 
And  at  every  contribution  he  a-raised  a  joyful  shout, 
Exclaimin'  how  'twas  noble  to  relieviate  distress, 
And  remarkin'  that  our  duty  is  our  present  happiness. 


THE  BALLAD  OF  CHARITY  255 

Thirty  dollars  altogether  were  collected  by  the  tramp, 
When  he  bid  'em  all  good  evenin'  and  went  out  into  the  damp, 
And  was  followed  briefly  after  by  the  one  who  made  the  speech, 
And  who  showed  by  good  example  how  to  practise  as  to  preach. 


Which  soon  around  the  corner  the  couple  quickly  met, 
And  the  tramp  produced  the  specie  for  to  liquidate  his  debt ; 
And  the  man  who  did  the  preachin'  took  his  twenty  of  the  sum, 
Which  you  see  that  out  of  thirty  left  a  tenner  for  the  bum. 


And  the  couple  passed  the  summer  at  Bar  Harbour  with  the  rest, 
Greatly  changed  in  their  appearance  and  most  elegantly  dressed. 
Any  fowl  with  change  of  feathers  may  a  brilliant  bird  become : 
Oh,  how  hard  is  life  for  many  !  oh,  how  sweet  it  is  for  some  ! 


MULTUM   IN   PARVO 

"  GREAT  thoughts  are  oft  expressed  in  fewest  words," 

And  I  remember  how  long  years  ago, 

When  a  great  lady  in  her  diary 

Of  a  short  visit  to  the  Scottish  land, 

Recorded  of  a  sorrowful  event, 

"  To-day  poor  little  Vicky,  by  mischance, 

Sat  on  a  wasps'  nest."     All  the  newspapers 

Declared  it  was  a  perfect  masterpiece 

Of  excellent  conciseness.     Yet  I  think 

It  was  outdone  by  a  Red  Indian — 

One  of  the  Quoddy  tribe — who  did  the  same ; 

Since  he,  like  "  little  Vicky,"  also  sat 

Upon  a  seat  as  hot ;  and  when  he  rose, 

Briefly  exclaimed  in  his  vernacular  : — 


MULTUM  IN  PARVO  257 

"  ETlam-kikqu' !  "  and  being  asked  what  this 
Might  mean,  responded  in  the  English  tongue : 
"  Heap  hell!  "     O  reader  !  if  the  soul  of  wit 
Be  brevity,  this  Indian  was  there. 


THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO 

"  For  blowing  is  not  playing  on  the  flute, 
To  do  that  well  you  must  put  fingers  to't." 

GERMAN  PROVERB. 

THIS  is  a  Merry  Tale  of  Bergamo. 

It  chanced  in  Fifteen  Hundred  Twenty-Eight 

[As  I  do  find  the  fact  recorded  in 

A  pleasing  book  of  Sixteen  Thirty-Six 

Entitled  Scelta  di  Facetie— 

A  little  yellow,  quaint,  italic  tome, 

Which  looks  as  if  it  were  behind  the  age, 

And  would  have  been  black  letter  if  it  could] 

That  in  fair  Venice  raged  a  pestilence 

Whereof  in  time  full  many  people  died, 

And  among  these  a  trusty  servitor 

Who  blew  the  bellows  for  the  organist 


THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO  259 

All  in  the  great  Cathedral  of  Saint  Mark, 
Whose  billowy  pavement  truly  seems  to  roll 
In  time  and  measure  with  the  music  sweet, 
So  perfect  were  the  harmonies  of  Art 
Which  men  imagined  in  the  olden  time. 


Now  as  this  man  had  died  while  at  his  work, 
Even  while  blowing  a  Magnificat 
All  in  the  holy  church,  it  was  adjudged 
That  he  almost  deserved  to  be  a  saint. 
And  he  who  preached  the  sermon  over  him 
Said  that  "  his  soul  had  risen  on  the  notes 
Of  the  grand  anthem  which  he  had  inspired, 
And  having  reached  the  Music  all  divine 
Had  softly  sunk,  as  light  is  lost  in  light, 
Into  the  pure  Celestial."     Here  he  stopped. 
Men  were  great  preachers  in  the  olden  time. 

It  happened  that  a  certain  Giannolo, 
Facchino  Bergamasco^  or  a  man 


260  THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO 

From  Bergamo,  a  porter  by  his  trade, 
Who  carried  heavy  burdens,  yet  withal 
Was  not  o'erburdened  with  a  load  of  wit, 
Hearing  this  sermon,  got  it  in  his  head — 
And  no  great  wonder  either — that  the  late 
Departed  bellows-blower  must  have  been 
The  Chief  Musician  of  the  Holy  House ; 
And  knowing  that  the  man  who  bloweth  up 
A  pair  of  bagpipes  also  is  the  one 
Who  plays  upon  the  same — drew  inference 
That  the  deceased  was  the  true  organist, 
And  he  who  played  thereon  his  humble  aid, 
Who  only  worked  to  keep  the  tune  in  time. 


Now  being  smitten  with  a  deep  desire 

To  rise  in  life  and  also  to  be  called 

A  Child  of  Art — with  a  nice  salary — 

And  have  a  sermon  preached  o'er  him  when  dead, 

Giannolo  unto  the  Bishop  went, 

And  made  a  great  entreaty  to  be  placed 


THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO  261 

Among  the  holy  followers  of  Saint  Mark, 
And  that  the  aim  of  his  ambition  was 
Alzare  i  mantici  quando  su- 
onava  gli  organi — that's  to  say  : 
"To  lift  the  bellows  when  the  organ  played." 
And  as  he  was  a  stout  and  lusty  knave 
Who  might  be  useful  in  a  hundred  ways, 
They  gladly  took  him  on,  so  there  he  stayed 
Blowing  the  bellows  faithfully  in  time. 


I  ween  there  is  not  in  all  Italy 
A  man — unless  he  came  from  Bergamo — 
Who  could  have  blown  an  organ  seven  years 
In  the  full  faith  that  he  was  playing  it, 
And  was  indeed  the  real  organist. 
Yet  this,  in  fact,  unless  the  legend  lies, 
Was  what  befell  Giannolo.     By  this  time, 
Having  laid  by  a  very  handsome  sum, 
And  being  well  attired  though  modestly, 
As  is  becoming  to  a  Son  of  Art, 


262  THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO 

He  went  a-visiting  his  native  place, 
Where  all  who  were  related  unto  him — 
That  is  to  say  about  one-half  the  town — 
Did  greatly  marvel  at  his  handsome  clothes 
And  at  his  air  of  stately  dignity, 
But  most  of  all  when  he  informed  them  that 
He  was  no  more  a  porter  :  he  had  felt 
Immortal  longings  in  him  to  arise 
Above  that  vulgar  calling,  and  to  soar 
"  'Mid  palpitations  sweet  and  pleasures  soft, 
The  manifestations  of  that  beauteous  life 
Diffused  unseen  throughout  eternal  Space  " 
Which  men  call  Music ;  and  that  he  had  risen 
Even  to  a  monthly  salary  of  ten  francs, 
Wherewith  were  many  pleasing  perquisites  ; 
And  that  he  played  the  organ  in  Saint  Mark's, 
As  all  the  world  allowed,  in  perfect  time. 


Uprose  a  buzz  of  strangest  wonderment, 
Or,  as  'tis  writ,  Di  che  restarono 


THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO  263 

Piii  maravigliati ;  for  they  all 

Were  much  amazed  that  such  a  common  man — 

St  vile  e  si  rozzo — such  a  boor — 

Had  risen  to  the  pinnacle  of  Art 

In  Venice,  where  all  Art  was  at  its  height, 

And  gained  the  crown  of  glory — Iddio  f 

"Ten  francs  a  month  besides  the  perquisites  ! " 

They  bowed  before  him  with  deep  reverence, 

Hoping  he'd  stay  with  them  a  little  time. 

Then  some  one  spoke  with  hesitating  tone, 

As  if  in  fear  to  take  a  liberty, 

And  said :  "  Your  Excellence — if  we  might  dare — 

Since  we  would  celebrate  the  kind  return 

Of  such  an  Honour  to  our  noble  town, 

Would  you  not  grace  the  occasion,  and  increase 

Our  joy  and  sense  of  deep  respectfulness, 

By  playing  Vespers  for  us  in  the  Dome 

On  Sunday  next  ?  "     Giannolo  bowed  low, 

And  in  a  speech  adorned  with  many  flowers, 

Which  he  had  culled  from  sermons  in  Saint  Mark, 


264  THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO 

Acceded  gracefully  to  their  request, 

And  said  he  would  be  there  to  play,  in  time. 

When  Sunday  came  there  came  with  it  a  crowd 

Such  as  Bergamo  never  saw  before, 

For  in  her  streets  and  past  her  palaces 

Thousands  in  holiday  attire  swept  on, 

And  even  afar  there  was  a  thundering  roar, 

From  time  to  time,  which  rolled  from  square  to  square, 

As  when  the  incoming  ocean,  with  a  tide 

Urged  by  a  tempest,  breaks  among  the  rocks. 

Yea,  there  were  many — tanto  popolo — 

All  that  the  church  would  hold,  and  then  outside 

A  vast,  impatient,  brilliant  multitude, 

Such  as  had  ne'er  been  there  at  any  time. 


And  at  the  appointed  hour  Giannolo  came, 
Rising  before  the  people  in  his  state, 
Waiting  awhile  the  appearance  of  the  man 
Who  was  to  play  the  organ  while  he — blew  ! 
And  all  the  congregation  waited  too, 


THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO 

All  staring  steadily  at  the  great  man 

7  (UNIVERSITY 

In  anxious  expectation,  till  at  last 
Giannolo  from  the  pulpit  cried  aloud  : 
"  Where  is  the  man  who  is  to  touch  the  keys  ? 
What  is  the  use  of  making  music,  hey — 
And  filling  up  the  thing  with  melody, 
As  I  have  come  to  do,  unless  there  be 
Some  one  to  click  the  bones  and  let  it  out  ? 
You  don't  suppose  that  I  can  raise  the  wind, 
And  steer,  and  sail  the  ship  as  well,  my  friends. 
Such  things  were  ne'er  beheld  at  any  time." 


There  was  an  instant's  silence — deep  and  strange ; 
In  all  the  great  cathedral  rang  no  sound. 
All  stared  at  one  another  open-eyed, 
Or  at  Giannolo — just  as  if  some  power 
Before  unknown  in  life  had  seized  on  them 
With  a  tremendous  sense  of  dire  amaze, 
Not  knowing  what  the  devil  it  could  mean ; 
When  all  at  once  they  took — and  from  them  all 


266  THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO 

There  rose  a  roar  of  laughter  like  a  crash 
Of  thunder,  and  so  near  it  that  one  seemed 
To  miss  the  lightning — or,  as  I  might  say, 
'Twas  like  a  flash  of  sound — and  then  again 
It  came  re-echoed  from  the  multitude 
Gathered  outside,  as  the  electric  peal 
Resounds,  repeated  by  the  mountain  tops. 
Yea,  such  a  peal  of  laughter  as  the  book 
Declares  "at  vespers  ne'er  was  heard  before," 
And  ne'er  again  will  be  at  any  time. 


Moral.   I  pray  you  think  upon  it  well. 

There  are  full  many  people  in  this  world 

Who  think  that  they  are  wondrous  wise  in  ART, 

And  who,  as  Critics,  write  about  the  same 

In  transcendental  phrase  with  capitals, 

And  call  it  Faith,  and  Love,  and  Heaven  knows  what, 

And  cannot  think  of  it  without  a  gasp 

And  uttering  phrases  silly,  mystical, — 


THE  ORGANIST  OF  BERGAMO  267 

Because  they  are  the  empty,  windy  ones, 
Inflating  and  inflated,  who  but  blow 
The  bellows  of  the  organ,  yet  believe 
That  they  are  leaders  in  the  Realm  of  Art ! 


THE   GOTH   AND   THE   PIGEON 

AMONG  the  merry  tales  of  olden  time 

Which  are  still  current  in  fair  Italy 

Are  many  told  in  taverns  or  in  type 

About  the  rude  barbarians  of  the  North 

Who  cross  the  Alps,  even  as  they  did  of  yore, 

When  they  invaded  fertile  Lombardy, 

And  helped  themselves  to  all  which  pleased  their  eyes, 

And  paid  for  it  in  iron  and  with  blood : 

Those  times  are  fled,  but  Northmen  still  are  here ; 

States  fall,  arts  fade,  but  English  yet  abound, 

And  Austrian-Germans  and  Americans 

Stalk  proudly  through  the  streets  with  Baedeker, 

Or  Murray,  with  the  very  gait  and  air 

Of  their  barbarian  ancestors — although 


THE  GOTH  AND  THE  PIGEON  269 

They  are  cleaner  washed  and  more  completely  shaved — 

Bet  high  upon  the  latter  ;  for  as  once 

They  came  to  rob  the  natives  of  their  goods, 

The  latter  now  do  live  by  spoiling  them. 

And  thus  strange  things  do  happen  in  this  world. 


Thus  we  may  note  that  all  these  foreigners, 

Be  it  the  daintiest  English  dame  alive, 

Or  damsel  born  in  fair  America, 

Or  Russians  of  a  royal  family, 

Or  Frenchmen  of  the  very  noblest  stock, 

Or  Viennese  as  elegant  andjfor/^1 

As  even  Viennese  can  be  produced — 

Wherein  they  wellnigh  rival  Baltimore — 

Are  still  regarded  by  the  Italian  with 

A  doubtful  smile,  who  as  he  smiles  exclaims : 

"  Sono  forestieri" — which  indeed 

Means  "They  are  foreigners" — and  yet  the  word 

1  A  very  peculiar  Viennese  slang  word,  signifying  stylish  or  elegant.  It  is  supposed 
to  be  an  abbreviation  of  the  mispronunciation  of  the  English  word  fashionable — 
Germanic^,  feshionable. 


270  THE  GOTH  AND  THE  PIGEON 

Comes  from  Foresto — savage — desert — wild — 
And  so  do  ancient  thorns  live  round  the  rose. 
And  thus  strange  things  do  happen  in  the  world. 


Now  it  befell  that  in  the  Lombard  time 

When  Dieterich-Theodoric  was  king, 

And  from  Ravenna  ruled  all  Italy, 

The  court  religion  was  the  Arian, 

To  which  men  nowadays  an  Unit  add, 

Yet  do  not  add  by  the  process — that  I  see — 

Aught  to  its  value ;  but  the  odd  result 

Was  that  the  Gothic  warriors  nothing  knew 

About  the  mystery  of  the  Trinity, — 

Nay,  they  were  even  far  more  ignorant 

Than  was  the  English  curate,  who  when  asked 

What  he  did  understand  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 

Replied :  "  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  believe 

It  is  a  kind  of  pigeon."     These  poor  Goths 

Had  never  learned  so  much  as  this  youth  knew. 

And  thus  strange  things  do  happen  in  the  world. 


THE  GOTH  AND  THE  PIGEON  271 

Now  it  befell  that  once  a  Visigoth 

Stately,  while  all  unconscious  of  his  state, 

And  proud  while  nothing  thinking  of  his  pride, 

Went  stalking  onwards  through  the  streets  of  Rome, 

Unheeding  all  the  casual  passers-by 

Who  turned  to  look  at  him — as  a  grave  bull 

Might  walk  through  many  sheep — or  as  my  lord 

Guy  de  Plantagenet  just  now  walked  by 

Before  my  window,  where  I  writing  sit, 

In  Florence — true  he  came  bien  a  propos. 

And  thus  strange  things  do  happen  in  this  world. 

Well  then,  this  fierce  barbarian  from  the  North, 

Who  as  I  said  was  densely  ignorant 

Of  Trinitarian  theology, 

Was  not  much  further  in  the  Italian  tongue, 

Seeing  that  that  which  he  essayed  to  speak 

Was  of  the  pidgin  kind, — oh,  marvel  strange  ! 

Oh,  wondrous  miracle  ! — lo,  how  the  Muse 

Brings  up  that  word  to  keep  me  to  my  tale  ! 

Ah  !  what  strange  things  do  happen  in  this  world ! 


272  THE  GOTH  AND  THE  PIGEON 

Now  as  he  strode  along  the  Roman  street, 

With  thoughts  of  dinner  flitting  through  his  soul, 

Lifting  his  eyes  he  saw  upon  a  sign 

The  picture  of  a  dove  with  outspread  wings 

Above  the  door  of  a  trattoria^ 

Which  means  a  place  where  you  can  treat  yourself 

To  what  you  want — that  is,  a  restaurant. 

And  'neath  the  bird  he  read  inscribed  in  gold : 

Spirito  Santo  ;  and  he  gazed  at  it, 

And  took  an  object-lesson,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  So  that  is  the  Italian  for  a  dove  ! 

I  must  remember  it."     So  in  he  went 

Repeating  ever  to  himself  the  words 

"  Spirito  Santo  /    Santo  Spirito  !  " 

Those  who  o'erheard  him  deemed  him  a  devout 

And  fervid  follower  of  the  Trinity. 

And  thus  strange  things  do  happen  in  the  world. 


And  having  sat  him  down,  the  waiter  came 
And  asked  His  Excellence  what  he  would  have ; 


THE  GOTH  AND  THE  PIGEON  273 

To  which  his  Gothic  Excellence  replied : 

"  I  want  a  bottle  of  your  noblest  wine, 

With  it  a  soup  of  highest  quality, 

And  after  that  a  roast  San'  Spirito  ! " 

"A  roasted— WHAT ?  Signore,"  cried  the  man, 

As  one  who  had  not  rightly  understood, 

While  all  the  guests  around  did  glare  amazed. 

"  I  said,"  resumed  the  Northern  warrior, 

"  A  Spirito  Santo,  such  as  you  have  got 

Upon  your  sign  outside — a  bird,  you  know, 

That  moves  its  wings  like  this  " — and  here  he  moved 

His  bended  arms  like  wings,  both  up  and  down, 

While  with  his  voice  he  murmured  Coo-oo-oo  ! 

Or  what  is  called  in  French  a  roucoukment, 

Or  girren  in  the  German.     Hearing  this, 

All  who  were  present  promptly  understood  ; 

And  though  they  all  were  naturally  polite, 

And  never  laughed  at  any  foreigner 

Before  his  face,  because  he  erred  in  words, 

This  was  too— too — too  much,  and  all  burst  out 

In  a  tremendous — an  Homeric  roar. 
18 


274  THE  GOTH  AND  THE  PIGEON 

They  drew  the  line  at  pigeons ;  and  the  Goth 
When  'twas  explained  laughed  loudest  of  them  all ; 
And  thus  it  was  he  learned  another  word. 
And  thus  strange  things  do  happen  in  the  world. 


REFLECTIONS   IN  A  PRINTING-OFFICE 

FAUST  means  a  fist — a  fist  can  hit,  I  ween  : 
Faust  made  the  greatest  hit  that  e'er  was  seen. 


I  know  not  if  'twas  Guttenberg 
Or  Faust  who  first  began 
To  print — the  honour  was  too  great 
For  any  single  man. 


Printing  is  called  the  Art  of  Arts, 
And  typos  then  are  artists — right — 
They  are  the  nobler  counterparts 
Of  those  who  work  in  Black  and  White. 


APPENDIX 


ORBUS  IN  TACTU  MAINET.— P.  2 

THERE  were  in  Philadelphia,  forty  years  ago,  two  sailors'  groggeries  in 
Water  Street,  both  having  the  sign  of  The  Boy  and  Barrel,  derived  from 
the  infant  Bacchus.  One  of  these  had  for  motto  the  words  exactly  as  here 
misspelt  and  divided. 

TIME  FOR  US  TO  GO.— P.  64 

In  one  of  his  admirable  papers,  "  At  the  Sign  of  the  Ship,"  published 
in  the  Cornhill  Magazine,  Mr.  Andrew  Lang,  in  discussing  Sea  Songs,  wrote 
the  following : — 

"  In  an  unpublished  play  by  Mr.  Henley  and  Mr.  R.  L.  Stevenson,  a 
play  called  Admiral  Guinea,  that  veteran  ruffian,  Mr.  Pew  of  Treasure 
Island,  makes  his  appearance.  He  has  been  a  sailor  of  Admiral  Guinea's 
in  the  slave  trade,  and  he  haunts  the  evangelical  and  remorseful  Admiral 
like  an  evil  conscience,  singing  snatches  of  the  following  '  Slaver's  Song.' 
Mr.  Henley  has  kindly  copied  out  the  whole  piece,  which  was  published 
in  Mr.  Leland's  *  Captain  Jonas  Fisher '  in  Temple  Bar  about  fourteen 
years  ago.  Whether  the  ballad  is  traditional  and  collected  by  Mr.  Leland, 


278        SONGS  OF  THE  SEA  AND  LA  YS  OF  THE  LAND 

or  whether  to  himself  is  due  the  great  credit  of  the  authorship,  I  am  not 
aware." 

Truly  I  am  not  the  author  of  the  song  which  I  picked  up  in  Phila 
delphia  before  the  War,  nor  do  I  know  who  wrote  it.  I  am  tolerably 
certain,  however,  that  I,  having  slightly  retouched  it,  republished  it  in 
Temple  Bar  as  quoted.  There  are,  however,  others  besides  Mr.  Lang  who 
think  I  wrote  it,  so  I  give  it  here  in  order  to  make  truth  known,  but  chiefly 
because  it  is  in  keeping  with  other  specimens  of  sailors'  lyrical  folk-lore  in 
these  pages,  and  will  be  acceptable  to  all  who  like  such  ballads. 


SAMUEL  JACKSON.—  P.  99 

"And  of  the  heathen  natives  with  their  suppositious  wiles." 

I  once  crossed  the  Atlantic  in  a  sailing-vessel,  sharing  my  state-room 
with  a  veteran  sea-captain  who  had  been  for  forty  years  in  the  whaling 
service.  He  had  an  inexhaustible  stock  of  sea-folk-lore,  which  he  freely 
imparted  to  me  who  was  an  eager  listener,  and  as  the  voyage  lasted  thirty- 
five  days  I  had  opportunity  to  gather  much.  I  am  indebted  to  him  for 
this  amusing  interchange  of  words.  When  telling  me  that  he  once  went 
incognito  to  revisit  his  old  home  in  Connecticut  he  said,  "  I  passed  under 
a  superstitious  name." 


THE    END 


Printed  by  R.  &  R.  CLARK,  Edinburgh 


NEW     NOVELS. 

At  all  the  Libraries. 


JOHN  DARKER      . 
A  ROMANCE  OP  DIJON       . 
POSTE  RESTANTE 
MARGARET  DRUMMOND    . 
PAUL  ROMER         .... 
MY  INDIAN  SUMMER       '    . 
THE  CURB  OP  HONOUR     . 
BORN  IN  EXILE    .          .          . 
THE  GREAT  CHIN  EPISODE       .' 
THE  LAST  TOUCHES   . 
A  TANGLED  WEB 
THE  PHILOSOPHER'S  WINDOW 
CAP  AND  GOWN  COMEDY 
UNDER  TWO  SKIES 


.  By  AUBREY  LEE. 

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.   By  Princess  ALTIERI. 

.  By  M.  BETHAM-EDWARDS. 

.  By  GEORGE  GISSING. 

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.   By  Mrs.  W.  K.  CLIFFORD. 

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.   By  Lady  LINDSAY. 

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.  By  E.  W.  HORNUNG. 


ADAM   AND    CHARLES   BLACK, 
SOHO  SQUARE,  LONDON. 


THE 


POETICAL 

WORKS 


or 


SIR    WALTER    SCOTT,    Bart. 

Selected  and  Edited,  with  Introduction  and  Notes, 

BY 

ANDEEW   LANG 
In  2  vols.,  Crown  8vo,  Price  5s.  in  Cloth ;  or  6s.  Half-Bound 

Uniform  with  the  Dryburgh  Edition  of  the 
Waverley  Novels 


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